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(iVVnCi^  >J^^t(nte 


BATTERY   B 

Thru  the  Fires  of  France 


Being  a  very  human  and  intimate 
sketch  of  a  few  men  who  served 
stem  a  tiny  eddy  in  one  of  the  great- 
est of  catcLQlys^^he  World'  Wat 


BY 

ERNEST     STONE 
If 


Battery  B.  Second  Battalion 
Anti- Aircraft  Artillery,  C.A.C. 


COPYRIGHT,  1919 


WAY31DE  IPRB^S 

^  "-*      311  E«9t'Fi»UFlB  §'<reet 
*.   •;  <  *'I-oJi.Aa;^e4es,  Califofma 


FOREWORD 

In  this  great  moment  of  peace  and  lawn  parties, 
good  fellowship  and  woman's  presence;  of  wake- 
less nights  and  a  bountiful  table — a  paradise — it 
is  difficult  to  recall  the  days  spent  in  France  under 
arms,  much  less  the  actual  '  ^  call  of  the  cannon. ' ' 

As  I  sit  in  my  studio  gazing  out  over  green 
stretches,  blossoming  trees  and  buzzing  bees,  I  am 
tempted  to  ascend  into  that  state  of  mental  bliss, 
sequel  to  a  midsummer's  dream,  and  romp  with 
ethereal  children. 

Yet,  thru  the  pages  of  this  book  I  return  to  the 
past  with  a  keen  sense  of  enjoyment,  nor  would  I 
forfeit  one  iota  of  experience  gained  ''over  there.'* 
I  recall  Battery  B  with  a  smile;  the  farewell,  the 
ocean  voyage,  France,  the  Front  and  the  roar  of 
a  million  cannon. 

The  whole  panoramic  picture  unfolds  in  a  flash 
then  disappears  with  but  a  trace  fluttering  in  the 
wind.  The  incidents  are  personal,  but  the  pictures 
are  of  stuff  such  as  a  million  Yanks  touched  in 
that  march  towards  Berlin.  Thus  can  one  share, 
if  the  reader  but  transpose  the  proper  nouns. 
There  were  a  thousand  Corporal  Blankys,  and  Cap- 
tain Ironhand's  shadow  stalked  in  every  quarter 
of  the  camp.  How  familiar  old  Paris  and  that 
letter  the  French  maiden  wrote;  the  cannon's  roar 
and  the  army  beans  which  contained  an  equal 
number  of  pebbles  per  pan. 

766867 


Captain  Ironhand  and  Corporal  Blanky  are 
nom  de  plumes.  All  other  characters  are  properly 
named  and  true  to  life.  Members  of  Battery  B 
will  readily  recognize  the  '* plumes"  and  perhaps 
will  recall  a  bitter  taste.  I  make  no  apologies;  I 
have  stated  the  facts. 

This  little  book  is  my  humble  contribution  to 
that  memorable  epoch  of  our  globe's  history — 1914- 
1918.  It  is  intended  for  boys  who  have  made  the 
journey.  Others  may  linger  over  the  written 
words  and  perchance  catch  a  glimpse  of  the  real, 
but  how  well  we  realize  that  actual  experience  is 
the  master  key  to  all  symbolic  code. 


(jyz^meay  JCti^rif 


Hollywood,  California. 
Summer  1919. 


CONTENTS 


Chapter  Page 

Foreword           ___----  3-4 

1  Prologue       -------  9 

2  Farewell             _______  12 

3  Journey  Overland         _         _         -         -         -  15 

4  Corporal  Blanky       ------  18 

5  Sedalia           -------  20 

6  Lake    Erie         -- 22 

7  The  Iron  Hand    ------  25 

8  Our  First  March      ------  29 

9  The    Embarkation        -----  32 

10  On  the  High  Sea      ------  35 

11  21,000  Meals  Daily 39 

12  A   Colored  Tragedy         -----  42 

13  Gambol,  Gamble  and  Gospel      -        -        -  45 

14  France       --------50 

15  A  Lively  Reception      -----  53 

16  Yea,  Unto   Eternity         -         -         -        -         _  56 

17  From  Brest  to  Paris    -----  60 

18  Fort   de   Stains        ------  64 

19  Comedy    and    Tragedy        -        -         -         -  68 

20  Captain   Ironhand   Falls           -        -        -         -  74 

21  Local   Travel        ------  Jl 

22  A   Parisian        -------  80 

23  Paris— T!ie  Pageant  City    -         -         -         -  84 

24  Just    Girls         -        -        -        -        -        -        -  89 

25  St.    Denis    of    Old 92 

26  Eight  Hundred,  B.  C.      -        -        -        -        -  98 

27  Final  Preparations       -----  101 

28  We  Crawl  Up  to  the  Front      -         -         -        -  107 

29  Front    Line    Sport 113 

30  Battle  of  St.  Mihiel         -----  US 

31  Victory          -------  126 

32  Kaleidoscopic   Days          -----  131 
Z2>  The    Advanced    Front          -        -         -        -  138 


Chapter  Page 

34  The  Fun  Begins       ------  141 

35  The   Palace  ------  146 

36  A  French  Seventy  Five  -        _        _        -  152 

37  A  Day  at  the   Gun   Pit       -        -        -         -  157 

38  Types  of  Planes       ------  162 

39  Human  Wasps     ------  164 

40  Modern    Apartments        -        -.        -        .        -  168 

41  Three  Letters       ------  171 

42  Our  Second  Plane    ------  177 

43  .  Balloon  A-Fire     ------  180 

44  Human    Nature         ------  184 

45  Plain    Racket        ------  187 

46  "Deacon,"  "Silent"  and   I        -         -        -        -  190 

47  Days    of  Fun        ------  196 

48  Censored    Mail          ------  201 

49  Last   Days  of  the  War       -         -         -         -  204 

50  November   11th,  1918       -----  208 

51  A   Poem       -------  211 

52  Glad    Tidings  ------  214 

53  Homeward   Bound       -----  216 

54  The    Mud-Hole        ------  222 

55  On  the  High  Sea        -        -        -        -        -  226 

56  The  Horror  of  War       -----  230 

57  Food  Jugglers      ------  232 

58  Statue  of  Liberty      ------  234 

59  Camps  Merritt  and  Dix       -        -         -         -  236 

60  California  and  Home       -----  240 


BATTERY  B 

thru 
The  Fires   of  France 


CHAPTER  I. 

Prologue 

Our  transport  the  Amerika,  a  pre-war  German 
liner,  departed  from  its  mooring  on  the  tenth  day 
of  June,  nineteen  eighteen.  Seven  ^t^Q'^^an^  troops^ 
were  aboard  and  a  happier,  more  v^entiiresome  lot' 
of  lads  I  have  seldom  seen.  Their  qviest  m,Ak  b,(>t  ;a; ' 
selfish  one — for  personal  pleasures  or'  gbld^-bilt 
an  entry  into  the  Great  Adventure,  and  their  bet- 
ter natures  fairly  shone  in  the  afternoon  sun. 

There  were  few  persons  about  the  wharf,  chiefly 
stevedores  and  sailors  bent  on  their  daily  tasks, 
and  the  usual  sea  of  handkerchiefs  and  shouting 
was  sadly  not  in  evidence.  This  was  a  stern  busi- 
ness— a  war-business — and  being  of  this  nature  the 
troops  were  being  shipped  by  the  thousands,  yes 
hundreds  of  thousands,  every  month  from  dozens 
of  handkerchiefless  wharfs  systematically,  secretly, 
and  at  each  sailing  the  public  was  not  aware  of 
the  departure. 

Uncle  Sam  could  ill-afford  to  have  his  secrets 
known  to  the  enemy.  Yonder  across  the  sea  lay 
submarines,  wolves  of  the  ocean,  ready  to  swoop 
down  upon  their  prey.  The  Lusitania  had  sailed 
gloriously  into  the  Great  Beyond  and  the  sacrifice 
was  great,  but  the  lesson  was  indelibly  stamped 
upon  the  National  Consciousness  of  Free  America. 
This  lesson  and  the  pirates  of  the  sea  were  prime 
factors  in  Uncle  Sam  taking  every  precaution  to 


CHAPTER  2 

Farewell 

It  was  on  the  31st  day  of  May,  1918,  that  our 
troop-train  departed  from  the  station  at  San  Diego, 
California.  On  this  day  my  sweet  wife  stood  amid 
a  crowd  of  townsfolk  leaning  on  her  father's  arm. 
Battery  B  stood  in  rank  upon  the  station  platform 
after  having  executed  a  ''squads  left"  and  ''Bat- 
tery halt."  At  the  command  of  "rest"  each 
soldier  was  permitted  to  see  his  loved  ones  once 
more — perhaps  for  the  last  time. 

Mrs.  Stone  rushed  over  to  my  side  and,  strange 
as  it  may  seem,  not  a  tear  did  I  discover.  Ah! 
brave  girl,  but  I  knew  the  heartache  that  was  heirt 
and  she  could  see  the  struggle  that  I  was  making. 
Just  before  arriving  at  the  station  my  little  girl 
had  purchased  a  full  bag  of  fruits  and  nuts  and  a 
couple  of  magazines.  These  she  gave  me  and  a  kiss 
for  good  measure. 

Other  sweethearts  were  among  the  ranks,  too; 
wives  and  mothers,  and  tTiP  same  heart-burning 
was  theirs  I  know.  Fathers  were  saying  farewell 
to  their  sons  and  their  hand-shakes  were  firm,  but 
mothers,  wives  and  sweethearts  gave  tender  hugs 
and  kisses  as  their  tokens  of  farewell. 

Five  minutes  later  the  Battery  was  ordered 
aboard  but  luckily  we  did  not  start  for  some  min- 
utes. Mrs.  Stone  came  aboard  and  we  sat  together 
upon  a  comfortable  leather  sofa  in  the  closed  com- 


FAREWELL  13 

partment  of  our  car.  In  those  precious  moments 
we  made  anew  our  pledges,  and  the  love  and  under- 
standing that  passed  between  us  was  sufficient  to 
urge  one  to  brave  the  gates  of  hell,  even.  Yes,  to 
the  end  of  time  would  she  be  true. 

Orders  came  to  clear  the  cars — a  last  embrace — 
and  a  few  seconds  later  I  was  at  the  side  window. 
Once  more  we  held  hands.  I  made  an  effort  to 
reach  down  for  an  extra  kiss.  The  lad  at  the  next 
window  was  doing  likewise  and  all  up  and  down 
the  platform  were  sweethearts  reaching  up  and 
lovers  reaching  down.  A  sea  of  waving  handker- 
chiefs and  shouting  and — the  whistle!  We  were 
moving ! 

** Goodbye,  goodbye"  is  heard  from  all  sides.  It 
was  then  that  the  fountain  of  tears  o  ^erflowed ;  the 
dear  girl  had  held  on  desperately,  but  now,  now  I 
was  actually  being  carried  away.  Soon  I  would 
be  lost  in  the  hazy  distance,  perhaps  to  be  gone  for 
many  years.  At  this  juncture  tears  as  large  as 
apples  began  to  flood  my  eyes  and  my  heart 
throbbed — and  would  I  ever,  ever  see  her,  my 
darling  wife,  again?  The  parting  kisses,  parting 
words  and  growing  distance  were  revolving  in  my 
dazed  mind. 

Father  Time  waits  for  no  man.  That  day  we 
embarked  upon  a  new  journey. 

Twenty-eight  days  later  * '  somewhere  in  France ' ' 
I  received  my  wife's  first  letter:  "It  is  early  and 
the  beginning  of  a  new  month  (June  1).  We  both 
stand  at  the  threshold  of  a  new  life  to  which  we 
must  adjust  ourselves.    Shall  we  falter?  *  *  *  *  I 


14  THRU  THE  FIEES  OF  FRANCE 

have  not  cried  one  tiny  tear.  What  have  I  to  weep 
ahout?  *  *  *  *  This  is  my  'front-line  trench'  and 
I  am  ready.  *****' 


CHAPTER  3 
Journey  Overland 

Our  route  carried  us  over  the  Salt  Lake  Line, 
through  the  Mojave  desert,  across  the  border  and 
into  Nevada.  For  the  purpose  of  concealing  troop 
movements  we  traveled  over  branch  roads,  skirted 
large  cities  and  stopped  at  odd  places. 

Our  first  stop  was  Las  Vegas,  Nevada,  and  at 
this  small  village  we  quit  the  train  to  take  our 
first  exercise. 

The  Battalion  traveled  in  two  sections;  3  com- 
panies in  one,  2  in  the  other,  including  the  medical 
staff,  numbering  520  enlisted  men  and  15  officers 
in  all.  Each  section  trailed  an  extra  baggage  car 
which  was  used  for  a  kitchen. 

Our  mess  was  carried  out  along  efficient  lines,  to 
the  sorrow  of  our  porter.  We  received  two  cooked 
meals  and  one  lunch  per  day.  Breakfast  consisted 
of  rice,  usually,  or  a  cereal,  bread,  butter  and  cof- 
fee ;  and  on  one  occasion,  biscuits.  We  were  always 
ready  at  meal  time.  Those  who  happened  to  be 
asleep  or  interested  otherwise  soon  were  awakened 
from  their  reveries  for  there  would  descend  upon 
their  heads  a  noise  such  as  one  hears  on  New  Year's 
Eve ;  clanking  of  mess-tins,  shouting  and  a  general 
up-roar. 

The  K.  P.s  (kitchen  police)  would  juggle  an  in- 
fant tub,  filled  with  ''chow*'  down  the  aisle  of  the 
moving  train  and  in  dishing  out  to  the  waiting 
mess-pans  would  not  always  find  the  mark.     Our 


16  THKU  THE  FIKES  OF  FRANCE 

colored  porter  had  his  sweet  time,  you  bet,  though 
he  was  good-natured  and  ]ptf(^v  the  boys  fully  paid 
him  for  his  labors.  His  gratitude  grew  and  grew 
and  his  affection  was  good  to  see. 

After  performing  a  few  acrobatic  feats  with  our 
mess-tins  placed  upon  our  knees  or  on  the  window- 
sills,  or  on  the  red-floor,  wp  retired  to  the  vestibule 
to  wash  our  '* dishes,^'  The  refuse  can  was  a  poor 
excuse,  for  many  times  the  garbage  would  be  scat- 
tered upon  the  platform.  The  buckets  containing 
hot  water,  supposedly,  usually  contained  cold 
water.  However  we  managed  and  after  each  meal 
the  garbage  and  the  extra  water,  splashed  upon 
the  vestibule  platform,  found  a  path  into  the  cor- 
ridor and  even  into  the  toilet  compartment.  This 
.state  of  affairs  was  not  improved  and  the  porter 
of  our  car  patiently  cleaned  up  after  each  meal 
through  the  entire  trip. 

To  remain  clean  was  an  impossibility  and  the 
stock  of  fresh  towels  was  quickly  exhausted.  The 
men  evidently  preferred  to  economize  in  water  for 
our  towels  were  soon  made  black. 

Considering  the  equipment  each  soldier  carried 
and  the  general  untidiness  usually  prevalent  among 
a  group  of  men  (there  are  always  a  few  who  are 
slouchy  and  careless)  the  interior  of  our  Pullman 
sleeper  presented  a  comical  sight,  indeed.  I  have 
had  occasion  to  travel  in  Pullmans  in  civil  life  and 
know  what  the  general  appearance  and  comforts 
are.  The  contrast  was  decided.  From  the  ceiling 
to  the  spaces  beneath  the  seats  every  possible  inch 
was  discovered  and  filled.  Back-carriers,  hats,  coats 
and  what-not  were  tied  to  the  overhanging  chande- 


JOURNEY  OVEBLAND  17 

liers.  Bed  hammocks  were  exposed  after  the  berths 
were  made  up  and  these  nets  could  expand  and 
expand  until  an  enormous  amount  of  truck  could 
be  stowed  away. 

In  our  car  there  happened  to  be  a  reddish  powder 
upon  the  floor  (for  what  purpose  I  could  not  dis- 
cover) and  of  course  everything  pushed  under  our 
seats  received  a  good  coating  of  red.  The  dust 
poured  in  through  the  open  windows  during  travel 
(soldiers  are  not  accustomed  to  closed  circum- 
stances) and  particles  of  food  answered  Newton's 
law;  this  and  the  red  dust  and  white  dust,  com- 
bined, made  us  a  pretty  dirty,  grimy  outfit. 


CHAPTER  4 

Corporal  Blanky 

One  member  of  our  Battery  was  a  rustler,  a 
regular  East-end  Izy  Kazat.  This  corporal  Blanky 
would  get  permission  from  the  Commanding  Officer 
to  run  up-town  whenever  we  stopped  along  the 
road  and  stock  up  with  fruit,  nuts,  candy,  cigar- 
ettes and  cigars.  During  the  first  two  days  he  did 
an  ordinary  fruit-stand  business,  but  each  day  be- 
came more  daring  and  speculative  until  about  the 
fourth  day  out  he  was  conducting  a  department 
store.  Yes  sir,  you  could  buy  handkerchiefs,  tow- 
els, shoestrings,  magazines  and  books. 

Blanky  had  arranged  a  temporary  counter  over 
two  seats  and  any  hour  of  the  day  you  could  find 
him  sitting  supremely  on  top  of  the  world,  with  a 
cigar  in  the  corner  of  his  mouth  and  hat  cocked, 
dispensing  his  wares. 

It  was  a  war-department  order  that  no  man  leave 
the  trains  without  permission  from  the  Command- 
ing Officer.  Blanky  held  the  monopoly.  But  it 
was  well  for  it  centralized  the  business  and,  while 
we  were  all  supplied  with  * '  eats  * '  at  a  fair  price,  at 
the  same  time  it  gave  Blanky  a  profit  for  his  serv- 
ices. 

About  6 :30  p.  m.  the  second  day  we  reached  the 
state  of  Utah  and  later  at  Provo  we  changed  over 
to  the  Denver-Rio  Grand.  On  the  desert  it  was 
hot,  here  it  was  cold.    We  passed  through  Grand 


COEPORAL  BLANKY  19 

Junction,  Colorado,  at  4  p.  m.  and  that  night  at 
twelve  we  ascended  to  10,000  feet  above  sea-level 
and  crossed  the  Great  Divide  at  Tennessee  Pass. 

It  was  my  turn  at  guard  on  this  occasion  and 
while  the  Battery  was  tucked  away  in  sleep  I 
stepped  out  into  the  rigid  night  air  and  filled  my 
lungs  to  overflowing  with  the  pine-scented  moun- 
tain ozone.  I  breathed  deep  and  long  and  was  re- 
minded of  the  ever  growing  distance  between  the 
loved  One  at  home  and  myself.  The  Rockies  pre- 
sented the  first  great  physical  barrier  between  us,  I 
thought. 

Descending  the  eastern  watershed  was  a  simple 
task  for  our  modern  giant  locomotive.  Just  at 
dawn  we  entered  the  Royal  Gorge.  In  all  the 
world,  perhaps,  there  is  not  a  more  picturesque 
spot.  The  canyon  was  appropriately  named  for  it 
is  truly  Royal. 

We  followed  the  river  in  and  out  through  the 
stately  Gorge  and  at  five  in  the  morning  reached 
Pueblo,  the  city  of  my  birth.  As  my  parents  de- 
serted  Pueblo  for  country  more  mountainous  m 
nature  while  I  was  still  of  tender  age  I  did  not  re- 
member the  city.  When  I  discovered  the  huge 
banks  of  smoke  overhanging  the  city  I  was  glad 
that  my  parents  had  changed  their  abode. 

At  Pueblo  we  switched  over  to  the  Missouri-Pa- 
cific, reaching  the  state  of  Kansas  at  11:30  the 
same  day  (June  3).  Switching  from  one  line  to 
another  was  in  name  only  and  we  retained  the 
original  coaches  of  our  through-train  during  the 
entire  journey. 


CHAPTER  5 
Sedalia 

About  noon  the  fourth  day  we  passed  through 
the  small  town  of  Sedalia,  Missouri.  Here  we  re- 
ceived a  royal  reception.  Bed  Cross  girls  and 
workers  were  on  hand  early  and  we  were  served 
ice-cream  which  was  excellent  in  quality  and  thrice- 
excellent  in  quanity. 

Our  daily  exercise  was  taken  at  this  lively  little 
city  and  as  we  marched  through  the  streets  the 
townspeople  fairly  carried  us  aw^ay.  Later  at  the 
depot  our  quartette  (Ingram,  Fleck,  Steiler  and 
Ginn)  sang  in  good  measure  and  when  the  people 
shouted  for  more  we  all  sang.  0 !  yes,  our  Battery 
was  noted  as  the  ' '  singing  bunch. ' ' 

The  boys  made  eyes  at  the  girls  on  the  side 
and  of  course  the  fair  sex  all  just  dearly  loved  the 
soldier.  When  our  train  departed!  an  hour  later 
the  boys  of  the  Battery  cast  back  many  longing 
glances. 

On  this  occasion  hundreds  of  post  office  addresses 
changed  hands  and  the  secret  service  men  were 
more  than  foiled  in  their  efforts  to  guard  and  up- 
hold Uncle  Sam's  rule  that  no  military  information 
reach  the  public,  but  nothing  could  stay  the  daunt- 
less energy  of  youth.  This  custom  was  secretly  in 
order  during  our  entire  trip. 

It  was  later  at  Conneaut,  Ohio,  early  one  eve- 
ning, that  an  avalanche  of  humans  descended  upon 
our  train  and  scores,  yes  hundreds  of  addresses 


SEDALIA  21 

passed  from  girl  to  soldier  and  from  soldier  to  girl. 
There  were  kisses  thrown  in  for  good  measure  at 
this  place  and  it  was  my  ill-fortune  or  fortune  (  ask 
Mrs.  Stone)  to  be  left  entirely  in  the  cold.  But  I 
enjoyed  the  energetic  tactics  of  the  grown-up 
babies  that  mother  so  recently  had  cut  loose  from 
her  apron  strings. 

To  this  day  some  of  the  boys  are  in  correspond- 
ence with  ''our  lady  in  America"  who  had  casually 
given  an  address  to  a  passing  soldier  and  I  am  not 
missing  my  guess  if  more  than  one  match  will  be 
the  result.  While  some  of  the  boys  were  lavish  at 
first  with  their  letters  to  addresses  galore,  others 
dropt  their  mailing  list  completely.  Of  course 
there  were  a  few  good  permanent  ones — girls  worth 
knowing  as  revealed  in  letters — and  these  girls  re- 
ceive letters  from  their  soldier  boys  even  to  this 
date. 


CHAPTER  6 

Lake  Erie 

The  fifth  day  we  traveled  through  Indiana  over 
the  Wabash  and  Nickel  Plate  and  late  in  the  after- 
noon came  to  the  shore  of  Lake  Erie.  Here  was 
an  opportunity  for  a  bath  and  in  less  time  than  it 
usually  takes  to  undress  we  were  all  splashing  and 
swimming  in  the  merriest  sort  of  fashion,  filled  with 
glee  and  shouting. 

The  water  was  not  cold  as  was  our  expectation 
but  otherwise,  and  later  we  regretfully  left  the 
lake.  We  playfully  jumped  around  upon  the  shore 
stark  naked  and  imagined  that  we  were  kids  back 
at  the  old  swimming  hole. 

The  dip  was  refreshing  and  the  boys  were  well 
supplied  with  topics  for  conversation  for  the  re- 
mainder of  the  day.  A  bit  later  the  moving  train 
reminded  us  that  we  were  making  a  journey  in  the 
stern  interests  of  war. 

That  night  we  cut  through  a  small  strip  of  New 
York  state  and  next  morning  traveled  through 
Pennsylvania.  At  Sayre,  just  over  the  border,  we 
stopped  for  exercise.  At  this  town  I  smuggled  a 
letter  through  to  Mrs.  Stone.  I  had  suffered  my 
entire  correspondence  to  be  censored  up  to  this 
date,  but  I  was  determined  to  get  one  intimate  let- 
ter through,  at  least,  or  go  to  the  guard-house  in 
the  attempt. 

This  was  my  manner  of  procedure :    First  I  had 


LAKE  EEIE  23 

my  letter  ready  for  the  mail.  Next  I  awaited  my 
turn  at  guard.  The  time  arrived  and  I  walked 
upon  the  platform  in  a  military  manner.  The  let- 
ter was  stowed  away  in  my  hat.  I  approached  a 
car  repairman  who  happened  near,  told  my  story 
and  then,  when  all  eyes  were  turned  I  removed  my 
hat;  simultaneously  did  the  repairman  and  the 
letter  was  simply  and  quickly  bounced  from  one 
hat  to  the  other.  It  worked,  too,  for  later  in  France 
I  received  an  acknowledgment  from  Mrs.  Stone. 
This  was  my  first  and  only  smuggled  letter. 

During  the  day  we  crossed  the  Delaware,  with 
Washington  in  mind,  and  now  we  were  nearing 
the  end  of  our  journey.  Corporal  Blanky  was  sell- 
ing his  goods  at  reduced  rates  and  at  the  last  min- 
ute was  frantically  disposing  of  an  overstock. 

The  quartette  sang  louder  than  ever  and  the  red 
dust  and  fallen  food  churned  and  churned  in 
chorus.  We  were  glad  for  that  last  day;  and  two 
hours  after  midnight  we  reached  our  destination, 
Jersey  City,  New  Jersey,  all  tired  and  grimy  and 
thankful. 

At  daybreak  breakfast  was  served  and  later  we 
traveled  over  a  spur  track  to  Merritt  where  we 
detrained.  Details  were  appointed  to  load  our  bag- 
gage and  ordnance  property  into  waiting  trucks 
and  soon  we  were  marching  to  camp. 

During  our  march  we  had  visions  of  good  things 
to  eat,  elaborate  hot  and  cold  shower  baths  and 
feather  beds.  And  we  were  not  totally  disap- 
pointed in  our  visions  for  at  noon  that  day  we 
had  ''some  feed." 


24  THRU  THE  FIRES  OP  FRANCE 

Camp  Merritt  presented  a  good  appearance  and 
not  only  this,  one  could  find  the  conveniences  of 
life  therein.  Showers  were  working  overtime  that 
afternoon  as  the  boys  scrubbed  and  chased  dirt 
both  in  clothes  and  body.  We  remained  in  Camp 
Merritt,  the  largest  concentration  camp  for  over- 
seas troops  in  America,  three  days.  In  the  mean- 
while we  were  completely  equipped  and  properly 
booked  for  the  next  transport  sailing  for  Europe. 


CHAPTER  7 
The  Iron  Hand 

The  entire  trip  was  made  in  true  military  style 
as  regards  discipline  and  the  guard-house.  Our 
Captain  ruled  his  command  with  an  iron-hand, 
Haughty,  arrogant  and  proud  and  lacking  in  the 
finer  qualities  of  manhood  he  caused  much  distress 
among  the  troops.  Early  in  the  trip  Private  Wool- 
aver,  who  had  accidentally  spilled  a  glue-pot  upon 
the  First  Sergeant's  desk,  was  excommunicated  for 
his  pains  and  thrown  into  the  improvised  guard- 
house under  guard.  The  extra  guard  entailed  extra 
work  and  so  Woolaver  and  the  guard  joined  in 
chorus  and  denounced  the  ''skipper"  in  scathing 
terms. 

Gambling  was  permitted  by  the  Captain  but  he 
would  not  allow  the  privates  and  non-coms  (non- 
commissioned officers)  to  mingle  in  the  games.  One 
fine  day  the  haughty  one  came  through  the  train 
unexpectedly  and  pounced  upon  Corporal  Honey 
and  three  privates  who  were  industriously  playing 
at  twenty-one.  Honey  lost  his  stripes  besides  land- 
ing in  the  ''whosgow"  or  company  guard-house.  I 
have  never  had  a  speck  of  sympathy  for  gamblers 
in  trouble  but  for  Honey  I  did.  For  this  reason: 
He  was  the  unlucky  one.  Practically  every  other 
member  of  the  Battery  chanced  the  game  but  dur- 
ing the  illegitimate  pastime  all  had  reserved  an 
eagle-eye.    Honey  was  a  good  scout. 


26  THRU  THE  FIRES  OF  FRANCE 

The  third  day  the  guard-house  was  overflowing. 
Faulk,  Fears,  Kottinger  and  Neustead  were  guilty 
of  poking  their  heads  out  the  windows  and  talking 
to  the  girls;  giving  information  to  the  enemy,  the 
Captain  argued.  This  slight  infringement  could 
not  be  forgotten  by  our  poor  big  lanky  good-nat- 
ured Faulk  and  so  he  suffered  on  patiently. 

Fears  laughed  and  smoked  his  peace-pipe.  And 
Kottinger,  of  the  tribe  of  Izy  Kazat,  closed  his 
large  eyes  and  dreamed  of  the  time  when  he  could 
follow  up  the  rereating  Hun  and  reign  supreme 
over  a  huge  salvage  pile.  Kottinger  always  had  a 
bargain  or  was  willing  to  make  one. 

Neustead  was  the  backstop  for  an  excellent  flow 
of  wrath.  This  he  stopped  in  true  soldier  style  and 
said  nothing.  I  happened  to  see  the  performance 
— I  was  on  guard  at  the  time — and  I  noticed  the 
smile  that  escaped  from  a  rather  whitened  face 
which  bordered  onto  a  grin. 

''Shortie^'  Jorgensen  was  a  problem  for  the 
'  *  top.  * '  ' '  Shortie ' '  could  never  hold  his  silence  and 
so  one  day  the  "top*'  gave  an  extra  vigorous  com- 
mand to  which  ' '  Shortie '  ^  answered  in  boiling  rage. 
He  went  to  the  guard-house,  by  request,  nor  was 
this  "  Shortie 's"  first  experience. 

"Portagee"  Fonso  Avas  picked  out  by  the  doc- 
tor for  violating  G.  0.  No.  45.  This  short  un- 
learned fellow  was  so  much  ballast  in  our  organi- 
zation and  I  am  ashamed  to  admit  that  some  of  our 
enlisting  officers  are  without  common  judgment. 
This  awkward  little  man  the  boys  would  tease  in 
this  manner:  '*No  lik-a-da-ba-nan,  put  back-a-da- 


THE  lEON  HAND  27 

ba-nan,  git  up  r-r-red."  Repeated  several  times 
this  sentence  would  cause  Fonso  to  fly  into  a  tan- 
trum. He  was  transferred  from  our  moving 
' '  whosgow ' '  to  one  more  permanent  in  nature.  We 
dropt  him  at  Camp  Merritt  and  I  doubt  if  he  ever 
crossed  the  Atlantic. 

There  is  a  story  that  came  through  in  a  letter 
from  Clark  who  remained  in  Camp  Merritt  be- 
cause the  crabs  would  not  permit  of  his  traveling 
with  us  and  who  was  later  transfered  to  a  perma- 
nent post,  that  this  same  poor  ignorant  Fonso  was 
fined  forty  dollars  for  not  obeying  a  corporal.  Now- 
Fonso  always  obeyed  his  superiors,  grudgingly  I'll 
admit,  but  the  real  joke  of  the  story  is  that  he  did 
not  know  the  difference  between  a  non-com  and  a 
private.  His  road  was  a  thorny  one  and  I  can  see 
his  future  flight  to  his  native  country  with  stories 
of  the  brutal  American. 

The  medical  corps  did  duty  in  good  fashion  and 
we  w^ere  examined  daily.  But  we  took  these  exam- 
inations in  a  matter-of-fact  way  due,  perhaps,  to 
the  numerous  subjections  which  we  had  already 
undergone  during  our  enlistment.  The  nude  body 
has  long  since  ceased  to  arouse  our  curiosity  and 
the  boys  now  stalk  about  in  the  same  manner  as 
the  Australian  aborigines  or  the  South  African 
Hottentot  or  even  Adam. 

The  day  after  our  arrival  at  Camp  Merritt  we 
drew  our  final  clothing  and  equipment.  The  Cap- 
tain had  discovered  that  a  small  rip  would  warrant 
an  exchange  for  a  new  article  and  so  he  proceeded 
to  rip-rip  right  and  left  and  later  that  afternoon 


28  THEU  THE  FIRES  OF  FRANCE 

I  gazed  at  our  salvage  pile  in  utter  disgust.  Doz- 
ens of  coats,  trousers,  shirts,  shoes  and  working 
denims  were  ruined  in  the  mad  rush  for  something 
nice  and  new  and  ' '  smelly. ' ' 


CHAPTER  8 

Our  First  March 

Sunday  morning  bright  and  early,  3  a.  m.,  to  be 
exact,  our  Battery  was  ready  to  march.  We  carried 
full  packs  and  side  arms.  A  sandwich  stowed 
away  in  our  mess-tins  represented  our  future  break- 
fast. 

To  appreciate  the  five  and  a  half  mile  march 
which  we  faced  it  will  be  necessary  for  the  reader 
to  understand  something  concerning  our  packs  and 
extra  avoirdupois.  Each  pack-carrier  is  normally 
supposed  to  weigh  -  60  pounds.  The  blanket  roll 
consisted  of  two  heavy  army  blankets,  shelter-half, 
tent-pole,  tent-pins,  rope,  condiment  can,  two  suits 
of  underwear,  five  pair  of  sox,  one  extra  0.  D. 
shirt,  blue  denims  and  two  towels.  The  small  up- 
per section  contained  the  usual  set  of  toilet  articles, 
towel,  mess-tin,  knife,  fork  and  spoon.  A  third 
blanket  was  rolled  and  fastened  over  the  pack  in 
horse-shoe  fashion. 

Add  to  this  a  small  shovel,  the  cartridge  belt, 
canteen,  cup,  side-arm  and  scabbard  and  the  pack 
proper  is  complete.  But  we  carried  extra  articles 
such  as  soap,  tooth-paste  and  tooth  brushes,  books, 
chocolate  and  foodstuffs.  This  bulk  and  our  lusty 
army  rifle  brought  the  pounds  up  and  the  scales 
down  to  the  sum  of  from  75  to  100  pounds.  But  I 
can  assure  you  my  pack  seemed  to  weigh  500 
pounds  the  second  mile  out. 


30  THRU  THE  FIRES  OF  FRANCE 

Captain  Ironhand  ordered  us  about  in  his  usual 
manner,  though  I  '11  admit  he  found  himself  a  mere 
unit  among  the  numerous  Majors,  Colonels,  Briga- 
dier Generals  and  the  like. 

When  at  last  we  moved  out  into  the  night  our 
little  Battery  of  105  men  was  swallowed  up  in  a 
sea  of  soldiers.  Seven  thousand  men  traveled  the 
road  that  morning.  At  daybreak,  as  we  w^ere  as- 
cending the  first  hill  on  our  way  to  the  Hudson 
Eiver,  we  saw  the  marching  Yanks  through  the 
early  dawn  and  it  seemed  that  all  the  troops  under 
enlistment  were  marching  to  the  river. 

Our  packs  soon  became  filled  with  lead,  it  seemed, 
and  mile  after  mile  we  gritted  our  teeth  and  went 
stubbornly  forward.  This  march  was  our  first  real 
taste  of  warfare  and  it  was  an  excellent  test  for 
weakness.  I  later  heard  that  a  few  men  fell  by 
the  wayside.  These  men  were  sent  back  to  camp. 
Battery  B  made  the  grade. 

At  the  summit  of  the  hill  we  could  see  New  York 
City  in  the  distance  across  the  river.  The  climb 
had  been  gradual,  but  once  at  the  river  we  des- 
cended on  a  30  deg.  to  45  deg.  grade  and  soon 
reached  the  waiting  Ferry  Katskill.  Which  was 
well,  for  our  shoulders  were  simply  raw. 

A  few  minutes  later  the  crowded  ferry  moved 
down  the  Hudson  passing  on  its  way  two  large 
British  transports  camouflaged  in  the  latest  style. 
The  stripes  and  colors  presented  a  novel  sight. 
Many  boys  aboard  were  having  their  initial  boat 
excursion  and  they  looked  on  the  passing  show 
with  wondering  eyes.     At   10:30  we  swung  into 


OUE  FIEST  MARCH  31 

dock  and  fifteen  minutes  later  were  hailed  by  the 
Red  Cross  girls  and  fed.  Coffee  and  buns  ap- 
peased the  pangs  of  hunger  and  a  package  of  cig- 
arettes soothed  the  nerves  and  dulled  the  senses. 

While  standing  on  the  dock  ready  to  be  checked 
in  an  Intelligence  Officer  gave  the  troops  a  short 
talk.  He  spoke  of  mail  conditions  and  urged  each 
soldier  to  write  home  often;  then  dwelt  at  length 
upon  the  morale  of  soldiers;  and  lastly  gave  the 
prerequisite  of  every  American  soldier:  A  keen 
sense  of  discipline.    The  talk  was  fitting,  I  thought. 


CHAPTER  9 
The  Embarkation 

Presently  the  Battery  was  summoned  to  go 
aboard.  Each  man  passing  the  gang-plank  was 
required  to  call,  after  hearing  his  surname  called 
by  the  checking  officer,  his  Christian  name  and  in- 
itial. 

Battery  B  was  assigned  to  G-4,  one  deck  below 
waterline.  On  our  canvas  bunks,  a  few  minutes 
later,  we  wrote  several  hurried  letters  and  post- 
cards— the  postcards  to  be  mailed  from  New  York 
upon  cable  advice  of  our  safe  arrival — while  the 
transport  was  riding  at  anchor.  The  boys  made  a 
desperate  attempt  to  write,  but  it  was  difficult. 
What  could  be  said?  Had  not  the  ten  months 
previous  separation  at  the  training  camp  been 
sufficient  to  wring  from  every  heart  the  fullness 
of  love  and  manhood  and  had  not  the  suspense 
prior  to  the  order  to  proceed  over  seas  brought 
forth  the  best  that  man  could  offer  in  his  corres- 
pondence? What  was  left?  And  what  could  one 
write  amid  the  hurry  and  scurry  of  soldiers  and 
sailors,  the  checking  of  quarters  and  all  the  details 
preparatory  to  sailing. 

So  it  happened  that  the  mail-bag  was  filled  with 
thin-looking  envelopes. 

We  were  not  aware  of  the  time  set  for  sailing 
and  so  expected  to  move  without  notice.  The  boys 
retired  early  the  first  evening  on  board  for  reasons 


THE  EMBARKATION  33 

which  the  reader  can  plainly  see  and  awoke  early 
to  find  the  transport  still  in  port.  Anxiously  we 
watched  the  time  and  were  eager  to  be  off.  The 
hours  dragged  into  the  late  day  and  finally  as  the 
sun  was  fading  in  the  western  sky  a  long  blast 
from  a  deep  bass  whistle  told  the  story.  I  won- 
dered at  the  wisdom  of  advertising  our  departure, 
but  later  found  that  Uncle  Sam  had  played  a  ruse, 
having  anchored  in  the  Sound  all  night  and  leav- 
ing for  deeper  waters  early  in  the  morning. 

Wild  rumors  spread  about  the  boat  next  day 
telling  of  submarines  waiting  off  the  coast,  but  in 
these  humors  I  was  not  a  stock-holder. 

The  voyage  across  the  Atlantic  was  made  in 
nine  days  and  during  those  nine  days  many 
things  both  sad  and  comical  came  about.  The 
biggest  drawing  card  aboard  was  the  colored 
band;  the  least  was  the  latrine  guard  non-com. 

Aboard  the  liner  there  were  many  colored 
troops.  To  the  blackest  and  most  awkward  colored 
lad  I  one  day  chanced  a  conversation.  He  was 
Uncle  Sam's  very  own.  Yes,  sir,  this  lad  was 
going  over  to  lick  the  Boche  and  lick  them  good. 

"I'ze  done  gwane  to  jab  ma  bayonet  clean 
thru  his  liver,"  he  spoke  in  the  singular  and  per- 
haps had  visions  of  a  one-man  German  Army 
which  he  intended  to  exterminate,  no  doubt. 

His  colored  friend,  a  bit  brighter,  broke  in  and 
remarked,  ''When  de  bullets  come  thick  an'  hebby 
and  I'ze  want  a  light  I'ze  done  gwan  to  stick  up 
ma  cigarette  and  take  one."  At  this  juncture 
we  three  broke  into  a  hearty  laugh  and  a  wider 


34  THRU  THE  FIRES  OF  FRANCE 

mouth  and  whiter  teeth  I  have  never  seen  except 
once  at  a  Ringling  Brothers'  Side  Show.  There 
is  something  truly  likeable  about  a  negro  and  I 
defy  anyone  to  name  me  a  happier  race  of  people. 
We  whites  can  learn  a  great  lesson  in  cheerfulness 
from  them. 


CHAPTER  10 
On  the  High  Sea 

A  colored  Regimental  Band  abroard  gave  ex- 
cellent concerts.  Bach  member  would  lend  him- 
self whollj^  to  the  harmony  of  his  playing — lost  to 
things  physical — and  the  boys  did  their  best  to 
please  their  audiences.  It  was  one  of  my  chief 
delights  to  hang  over  the  rail  and  watch  the  stately 
ship  plough  it  course  thru  the  water  and  at  the 
same  time  listen  to  the  music.  The  harmony  of 
the  sea  and  of  the  instruments,  united  in  concert, 
was  refreshing  in  a  high  degree. 

I  spent  many  hours  basking  in  the  sunshine  and 
gazing  at  the  breakers  trying  to  solve  the  mys- 
teries of  the  sea  and  I  have  no  doubt  that  during 
those  hours  I  came  to  understand  many  things. 
A  person  has  not  experienced  the  fullness  of  life 
until  he  has  taken  an  ocean  voyage. 

The  first  morning  out  we  came  up  for  air  and 
discovered,  to  our  surprise,  that  we  were  in  con- 
voy; four  big  liners  in  all,  one  on  our  left  and 
two  on  our  right.  The  sight  presented  was  a  novel 
one  and  comforting  as  well.  The  submarine  was 
uppermost  in  mind  for  we  expected  any  moment 
to  be  attacked  and  of  course  we  argued  that  four 
liners  could  do  more  damage  to  the  ''roving 
sea-wolf ''  than  our  crews  could  alone. 

Thru  a  system  of  signals  the  four  transports 
would  alternately  change  position  in  such  fashion 


36  THRU  THE  FIRES  OF  FRANCE 

that  each  would  lead  in  turn  and  then  drop  behind. 
This  zig-zag  affair  was  done  to  put  the  submarine 
commander  in  an  embarrassing  position  should  he 
attempt  to  gain  accurate  firing  data.  But  for  all 
the  precaution  and  patrol  made  not  one  ''sub^' 
came  within  sight  and  we  sailed  the  deep  sea  in 
peace. 

Number  one  transport  on  our  extreme  right  was 
the  Mt.  Vernon,  formerly  the  Prince  Friedrick- 
schaffen.  It  was  camouflaged  in  a  most  fantastic 
manner.  Number  two,  on  our  immediate  right, 
was  the  Agememnon,  formerly  the  Princess  Cecelia. 
This  liner  and  our  Amerika  were  painted  the  usual 
battleship  grey.  To  our  left  was  liner  number 
four,  an  American  90-day  product,  the  Horizaba. 
Our  neighbor  on  the  left  bore  some  relationship  to 
the  zebra. 

The  first  morning  aboard  every  man  received 
a  life  belt  to  be  worn  continuously  thruout  the 
voyage.  Then  came  the  life-saving  drill.  The 
Lieutenant  Commander  of  the  Amerika  was  a 
short  fat  happy  likeable  fellow.  He  wore  a  num- 
ber twenty  collar  about  the  width  of  a  shoe-string 
and  beads  of  perspiration  stood  out  upon  his 
freckled  brow  as  the  fat  rolled  upon  his  neck. 

To  place  7,000  men  in  their  proper  stations  re- 
quired an  elaborate  program  and  so  we  drilled  a 
number  of  times  and  on  these  occasions  our  fat- 
man  went  steaming  about  the  upper  deck  waving 
his  hands  and  calling  out  directions  with  the  beads 
of  perspiration  fairly  streaming  down  his  cheeks. 
But  we  did  what  was  told  us  and  followed  ex- 


ON  THE  HIGH  SEA  37 

plicit  instructions,  and  when  it  was  all  over  the 
Lieutenant- Commander  would  be  so  pleased  that 
he  would  smile  from  ear  to  ear  and  his  small  eyes 
would  disappear  beneath  the  summer  sky  so  plump 
were  his  cheeks. 

Decks  A  and  B  were  reserved  for  the  officers. 
Being  a  private  I  did  not  taste  of  the  extra  priv- 
ileges afforded  them  nor  did  I  envy  the  the  com- 
missioned man.  His  path  was  often  a  thorny  one 
and  his  responsibility  great. 

I  know  the  officers  secretly  envied  us  at  times 
and  I  am  sure  they  missed  the  spice  of  life.  Owing 
to  the  caste  system  of  the  army  and  the  absolute 
rule  of  a  commissioned  officer  over  the  private, 
which  of  course  is  necessary  in  an  army  I  admit, 
the  officer  never  came  to  understand  the  position 
and  feelings  of  a  private  in  ranks. 

One  day  while  aboard  I  had.  a  very  trying  day 
with  Captain  Ironhand  and  to  relieve  my  sense 
of  freedom  I  wrote  in  my  diary  the  following: 
When  once  more  I  am  a  free  citizen  I  shall  breathe 
deeply  of  the  elixir  or  life.  I  repeat  Patrick 
Henry,  ''Give  me  liberty  or  give  me  death."  And 
I  warn  Jones  or  Smith  or  Brown  or  any  other 
man  alive  or  dead  not  to  encroadh  upon  my  free- 
dom after  I  receive  my  discharge  papers. 

Our  ship's  crew  was  brot  to  a  high  pitch  of 
excitement  one  day  when,  in  the  error  of  exchang- 
ing signals,  the  Mt.  Vernon  took  the  wrong  course 
and,  before  we  could  believe  our  eyes,  came  dash- 
ing madly  at  us.  The  pilot  swung  his  steering  gear 
just  in  time  to  avoid  a  general  smash-up.     As  it 


38  THRU  THE  TIRES  OF  FRANCE 

was,  the  two  liners  exchanged  generous  portions 
of  paint  due  to  the  slight  impact.  This  was  a  close 
call  and  we  breathed  deeply  later  to  recover  our 
balance. 

Add  to  this  local  tragedy  the  five  casuals  among 
the  colored  troops  en  route  and  our  hair-raising 
episodes  are  complete.  One  poor  colored  lad, 
probably  demented,  jumped  over-board  and  was 
lost.  Another  was  killed  outright  by  a  defeated 
gambler,  and  the  other  three  died  in  some  manner 
or  other  at  the  hands  of  violence. 


CHAPTER  11 
21,000  Meals  Dah.y 

Feeding  the  men  aboard  was  a  real  task  and 
when  you  consider  the  7,000  hungry  soldiers,  be- 
sides the  crew,  you  will  see  that  an  absolute  sys- 
tem was  necessary.  Each  man  held  a  ticket  stating 
at  which  mess  he  was  to  eat,  there  being  seven 
messes  at  each  meal. 

The  boys  would  form  in  line  beginning  at  the 
mess-hall  door.  This  line  would  extend  back  thru 
four  or  five  compartments,  around  several  stair- 
cases and  then  circle  back  upon  itself. 

Each  table  in  the  dining  room  seated  20  men, 
10  on  either  side,  and  each  table  was  served  by  a 
permanent  K.  P.  recruited  from  the  ranks  of  the 
various  companies  aboard.  These  kitchen  police 
brot  from  the  monster-kitchen  a  coffee  pot  and  an 
ingenious  copper  hand-tray  of  three  compartments 
filled  with  rations  for  exactly  twenty  men. 

The  waiters,  at  first,  tried  various  methods  in 
serving  the  food.  At  one  meal  our  waiter  started  the 
tray  at  number  one  man  who  helped  himself  and 
then  passed  it  to  number  two  and  so  on  down  the 
table  to  the  far  end  where  number  ten  and  twenty 
faced  each  other.  On  this  occasion  I  was  number 
twenty  and  after  the  food  had  passed  the  gauntlet 
of  nineteen  men,  why,  I  was  just  naturally  out  of 
luck.  After  this  meal  I  shunned  seat  number 
twenty  but  as  we  were  seated  in  the  manner  of 


40  THEU  THE  FIRES  OF  FRANCE 

our  entry  I  once  or  twice  afterwards  landed  num- 
ber twenty  or  its  neighbor,  nineteen.  By  this 
time,  however,  the  waiters  had  improved  their 
system  and  the  awkward  soldiers  had  learned  to 
be  more  careful  in  their  helping. 

There  was  a  canteen  aboard  ship  and  of  course 
the  boys  spent  much  money  for  cookies,  candies, 
canned  goods,  cigarettes  and  cigars.  The  sea  re- 
mained unusually  calm  during  the  entire  voyage 
and  so  there  was  no  sea-sickness.  The  mid-ocean 
air  no  doubt  gave  an  added  zest  to  the  appetite 
and  this  was,  perhaps,  the  reason  for  so  much 
eating. 

There  is  a  sad  tale  to  relate  about  the  canteen, 
sad  for  those  who  purchased  the  most.  Every- 
one wanted  something.  So  the  waiting  crowd 
would  line  up  from  fore  to  aft,  one  long  unending 
line.  This  state  of  affairs  soon  produced  a  few 
speculators  who  purchased  extra  stock  upon  ar- 
riving at  the  canteen  window  and  then  would  dis- 
pose of  said  stock  among  friends  at  a  profit. 

''Bessie"  Yourstone  of  our  Battery  arose  from 
a  mere  ''buck"  private  to  a  prominent  popular 
soldier  thru  his  business  energies  along  these  lines 
as  did  also  our  Corporal  Blanky  tho  in  a  lesser 
way.  No  doubt  his  sad  experience  of  over-stocking 
on  the  train  was  responsible. 

Our  sleeping  quarters  were  cramped  tho  comfort- 
able. It  was  always  warm  below  and  the  huge 
fans  supplied  fresh  air  continuously.  The  bunks 
were  placed  in  groups  of  twelve,  two  tiers  and 
three  high.  The  bottom  man  was  blessed  with  two 
men  directly  above  but  the  canvas  was  tough  and 


21,000   MEALS  DAILY  41 

held  firmly  the  solid  pounds  of  all  the  soldiers. 
Men  who  were  fearless  and  gave  little  thot  to 
the  lurking  submarine  remained  in  their  bunks 
every  night  and  took  afternoon  naps,  even.  The 
other  men  clung  to  the  open  deck.  The  first  three 
days  out  were  pleasant,  both  day  and  night,  but 
later  it  began  to  rain  and  when  we  came  nearer 
to  the  continent  the  nights  were  real  cold.  But  a 
few  timid  ones  would  manage  to  find  some  shelter 
on  board  and  remain  wrapped  in  blankets  thru  the 
frigid  night  air. 


CHAPTER  12 

A  Colored  Tragedy 

I  am  now  about  to  relate  a  tragedy.  At  the 
port  of  embarkation  there  were  many  thousands 
of  troops  constantly  in  waiting  for  transportation. 
Tonnage  was  lacking  and  the  natural  result  was 
an  over-crowding  of  the  ocean  liners.  It  was 
urgent  that  U.  S.  troops  proceed  to  France  without 
delay  and  so  each  transport  was  crammed  and 
jammed  to  overflowing. 

On  the  Amerika  every  white  soldier  was  assigned 
to  a  permanent  bunk  which  remained  in  his  pos- 
session throut  the  trip.  There  was  an  opportunity 
to  poke  the  articles  of  every  day  use  here  and 
there  among  the  rafters  and  to  hang  packs  and 
clothing  upon  the  sides  of  the  bunks  for  con- 
venience. 

Not  so  with  the  colored  boys.  A  day  and  night 
shift  was  organized  and  one-half  the  colored  troops 
remained  above  while  the  other  half  retired  to  the 
bunks.  Those  who  took  their  winks  during  the  day 
were  the  unfortunate  ones  for  theirs  was  a  hard 
road  each  night,  especially  after  the  third  day  out. 
The  wind  was  bitter  and  the  poor  fellows  huddled 
together  on  deck  thru  the  long  night  hours  as  best 
they  could  and  when  at  last  morning  would  come 
they  stirred  about  half-dead.  The  hard  floor 
made  many  a  kink  but  the  boys  suffered  on. 


A  COLORED  TRAGEDY  43 

Everyone  wore  the  life-belt  day  and  night.  The 
white  soldiers  were  issued  the  jacket  style,  com- 
fortable, warm  and  of  good  appearance.  The  col- 
ored lads  received  the  common  square  back-carrier 
and  these  awkward  belts  strapped  upon  .the  back 
made  them  appear  as  hunchbacks,  especially  if  a 
greatcoat  was  put  on  over  all. 

Thievery  being  prevalent  among  the  colored 
boys  (a  racial  trait,  I  am  sorry  to  say)  each  man 
was  obliged  to  keep  an  eagle  eye  on  his  posses- 
sions. And  so  each  day  the  boys  rolled  their  packs 
and  carted  their  possessions  about  the  deck. 

The  sight  was  a  comical  one :  The  colored  soldier 
and  his  sea-going  trappings.  Of  course  they  played 
the  canteen  line  and  I  can  now  vividly  recall 
numerous  packages  of  crackers,  sardines,  sand- 
wiches, sparkling  eyes  and  white  teeth,  cigarettes, 
cigars,  smoke  and  temporary  contentment. 

They  were  also  assigned  to  certain  portions  of 
the  decks.  At  night  the  colored  boy,  wishing  to 
find  a  warm  spot,  would  crawl  stealthily  into  a 
corridor.  The  guards  usually  caught  the  men 
doing  this  and  would  send  them  flying  back  to 
their  board-beds,  out  in  the  freezing  night. 

"Look  here,  soldier,  you  can't  stay  there,"  was 
the  remark  usually  heard.  And  he  couldn't  stay 
here  and  "nowhere,  nohow,"  and  one  raw-boned 
fellow  was  cautioned  so  many  times  he  finally 
blurted  out,  "Where  can  I'se  stay?"  Later  this 
same  fellow,  after  repeatedly  moving  his  pack  and 
equipment  about,  by  request,  became  desperate  and 


44  THRU  THE  FIEES  OF  FRANCE 

threw  the  "whole  works"  overboard.  He  was  not 
to  be  bothered  further. 

Many  instances  came  to  hand  later  of  equipment 
disappearing  overboard.  It  simplified  matters; 
the  soldier  would  be  rid  of  just  so  much  luggage 
and  Uncle  Sam  would  supply  a  fresh  outfit  on 
arrival  in  France. 

The  shameful  discrimination  shown  aboard  was 
undoubtedly  stamped  upon  the  consciousness  of  the 
colored  troops  and  in  the  future  will  represent  an 
added  obstacle  in  the  already  perplexing  National 
Racial  Problem. 

Abe  Lincoln  must  have  looked  on  in  shame.  This 
great  liberator  did  a  noble  work  during  his  earthly 
incarnation;  let  there  come  among  us  others  of 
his  caliber  to  continue  a  work  which  he  inaugurated 
and  help  us  in  erasing  the  many,  many  scores 
which  we  have  piled  up  against  our  Free  America. 
These  human  souls  must  receive  recognition. 


CHAPTER  13 

Gambol,  Gamble  and  Gospel 

Games  were  in  order.  One  rough  game  named 
''hot-hand"  evoked  many  a  laugh  and  the  merri- 
ment would  be  great  at  times.  ''Curly"  Best  was 
an  expert  at  "hot-hand"  and  he  was  generally  in 
evidence.  Now  the  paraphernalia  used  in  this 
game  consists  of  ordinary  paddles,  or  no  paddles 
at  all.  The  object  is  to  spank  a  stooping  soldier 
and  then  come  quickly  to  an  innocent  position.  If 
the  one  being  spanked  could  point  out  his  ad- 
versary from  the  surrounding  crowd  then  he  would 
be  relieved  from  duty  and  the  guilty  culprit  could 
look  forward  to  some  good  healthy  slaps.  ' '  Curly ' ' 
did  some  husky  work  and,  the  good  sport  that  he 
was,  would  take  his  turn  if  caught. 

Quoits  was  another  game,  similar  to  horse-shoe, 
the  object  being  to  throw  a  round  ring  over  a 
distant  peg.  A  simple  game  it  was,  tho  fairly  over- 
worked by  those  wishing  to  "kill"  time. 

Cards  and  dice,  the  old  favorites,  claimed  con- 
siderable attention  tho  it  was  "agin'  the  rules." 
The  negro  is  generally  pointed  out  as  being  a 
natural  gambler,  especially  at  dice,  but  many  of 
our  boys  take  to  the  game  with  as  much  en- 
thusiasm.   This  twin-vice  is  a  National  Liability. 

Four  decks  below  over  in  the  extreme  corner, 
in  the  worst  sort  of  light,  would  gather  the 
gamblers,  and  a  lookout.  I  have  overheard  many 
dice  games  which  run  in  this  fashion : 


46  THRU  THE  FIRES  OF  FRANCE 

''Shoot  a  half!" — ^the  money  would  be  quickly 
covered  by  a  dozen  or  more  and  then  the  player 
would  begin  his  game  in  earnest.  He  would  shake 
the  pair  of  dice  in  his  closed  -fist,  blow  thereon 
and  then  roll  them  on  the  floor,  saying,  ''Ah!  the 
old  natural!"  If  old  natural  refused  to  bob  up 
then  the  number  struck  would  be  the  mark  and 
the  player  would  roll  the  dice  repeatedly  until 
either  his  number  reappeared  or  he  "crapped" 
(meaning  throwing  seven,  which  number  would 
have  won  had  he  rolled  it  at  the  initial  throw) .  If 
four  was  his  point  to  make  the  player  would  lean 
over  and  shout  (or  whisper  in  this  instance  to 
conceal  the  secrecy  of  the  game)  "come,  little  Joe," 
or  "ma  baby  needs  a  new  pair  of  shoes, "  or  " talk 
f 0  yo  daddy, "  or  "  dice,  be  nice, ' '  ad  finem. 

Corporal  Blanky  was  the  biggest  man  of  the 
game  and  played  heavy  stakes.  The  little  "fish" 
would  sometimes  take  him  down  for  a  hundred  or 
two  hundred  dollars.  But  he  knew  the  game  only 
too  well  to  the  sorrow  of  the  small  gambler.  At 
one  time  later  he  had  1500  francs  in  his  jeans,  all 
illicit  money. 

Blanky 's  was  an  odd  character.  Perhaps  he  re- 
ceived more  notoriety  in  the  Battalion  than  any 
other  man  except  Mess-Sergeant  Ash  of  Battery 
C  who  later  at  the  front  had  a  hand  blown  off, 
and  the  reader  will  further  agree  with  me  when 
I  relate  the  following: 

Blanky,  one  fair  day,  sat  upon  deck  looking  out 
over  the  still  waters.  A  very  trifling  incident, 
something  I  cannot  now  even  recall,  irritated  him 


GAMBOL,  GAMBLE  AND  GOSPEL  47 

and  so,  calmly,  apparently,  he  reached  into  his 
pocket,  extracted  therefrom  a  handful  of  coins 
threw  the  whole  of  it  overboard.  He  liked  to  make 
grandstand  plays — and  the  coins  once  overboard 
he  dismissed  the  subject  from  his  mind.  As  chief 
food  and  tobacco  vendor  upon  the  train  he  no 
doubt  could  afford  to  empty  the  profits  of  his  trade 
into  the  sea. 

''Jack"  Renner  would  not  be  outdone  on  this 
occasion  and  he,  too,  threw  a  handful  of  coins  at 
the  fishes.      A  strange  pair. 

There  were  Y.  M.  C.  A.  men  aboard.  Some  were 
white,  others  were  colored.  Let  me  tell  you  right 
here,  dear  reader  ,that  one  of  the  best  *'Y"  men 
I  have  ever  met  was  aboard  and  he  was  colored, 
too.  He  was  a  real  gentleman,  another  Booker  T. 
Washington,  and  served  his  men  faithfully,  un- 
selfishly. 

Many  men  were  bitter  towards  the  Y.  M.  C.  A. 
and  in  my  conversation  with  hundreds  of  men 
aboard  I  discovered  the  same  underlying  complaint, 
id  est,  the  Y.  M.  C.  A.  as  a  war-organizatioin  was 
nothing  more  nor  less  than  a  huge  machine  built 
for  profit. 

But  when  all  is  said  and  done  there  is  no  ques- 
tion but  that  the  Y.  M.  C.  A.  did  good  work  for 
the  boys,  tho  the  amount  expended  compared  to 
the  amount  accomplished  was  out  of  all  propor- 
tion. 

I  can  see  a  ''miniature  tornado"  coming  and 
so  before  I  am  overwhelmed  with  wrath  from  the 


48  THRU  THE  FIKES  OF  FRANCE 

peaceful  lovers  of  things  Y.  M.  C.  A.  let  me  pro- 
ceed with  my  story. 

Much  can  be  said  for  the  Red  Cross,  so  much 
so  that  I  will  not  linger  for  my  pen  cannot  do 
justice  to  this  great  humanitarian  work  which 
President  Wilson  so  nobly  represents  as  Honorary 
President. 

While  on  these  subjects  let  me  say  a  word  for 
the  Salvation  Army.  The  finest  talk  I  have  ever 
heard  on  the  continent  was  in  a  Salvation  Army 
hut.  This  organization  has  won  a  place  in  the 
heart  of  every  soldier  and  I  have  yet  to  hear  the 
first  complaint. 

That  small  group  of  people  down  on  the  corner 
of  your  home  town  with  red-tipped  caps,  flying 
banner  and  bass-drum  will  awake  to  a  new  life 
after  the  war.  Irving  Cobb  paid  these  deserving 
people,  followers  of  the  immortal  Booth,  a  lasting 
tribute  and  in  his  characteristic  way  wrote:  ''Thru 
the  grease  of  doughnuts  and  by  the  grace  of  God/' 
et  cetera.  The  doughnut  was  a  staple  article  in 
the  huts  and  God  was  not  forgotten.  Rather,  His 
Spirit  animated  the  whole  organization  and  their 
untiring  services  were  proof.  I  cannot  say  too 
much  for  the  Salvation  Army. 

On  the  sixth  day  (Sunday)  I  attended  morning 
mass  as  read  by  a  Catholic  Army  Chaplain,  the 
Rev.  Leonard.  I  did  not  understand  the  Latin 
words  but  I  did  enjoy  the  later  lecture  which 
was  delivered  in  good  earnest.  I  am  not  a  Roman 
Catholic — my  religion  is  the  ''Ancient  Order  of 
the  'Open  Road.'  "     However,  I  appreciated  the 


GAMBOL,  GAMBLE  AND  GOSPEL  49 

efforts  of  this  clergyman  and  felt  that  the  boys 
under  his  care  were  spiritually  benefited. 

I  have  a  hearty  regard  for  all  the  spiritual 
teachers  representing  every  denomination  of  every 
religion,  the  so-called  ''heathen"  Buddhists  in- 
cluded. I  think  Sir  Rabindranath  Tagore,  India's 
ideal  and  v^^inner  of  the  Nobel  Prize,  shattered 
much  prejudice  in  the  States  during  his  travels 
in  1917. 


CHAPTEE  14 

France 

Forty-eight  hours  out  from  the  port  of  debarka- 
tion we  were  met  by  six  submarine  cruisers.  The 
sight  was  truly  a  naval  parade  done  up  in  the  in- 
terests of  the  ' '  sub ' '  and  we  eagerly  watched  their 
tactics  darting  back  and  forth  guarding  the  huge 
transports.  They  were  real  cute — that  expresses 
it — ^because  they  were  so  small  compared  to  our 
ocean-going  liners,  and  they  bobbed  up  and  down 
on  the  waves  like  so  many  corks. 

This  protection  was  an  added  comfort  for  now 
the  submarine  was  hopelessly  out-classed,  thanks 
to  Secretary  of  Navy,  Mr.  Daniels. 

There  was  great  rejoicing  among  the  troops  on 
the  morning  of  June  19th  when  we  sighted  the 
white  chalky  cliffs  of  Dover,  England.  In  the  dim, 
dim  distance  we  strained  our  eyes  to  behold,  and 
slowly  the  first  glimpse  of  land  hovered  in  sight, 
then  became  larger  and  nearer  until  finally  we 
could  see  land.  We  then  discovered  that  we  were 
gazing  on  the  shores  of  France. 

Only  those  who  have  traveled  across  a  large 
body  of  water  can  appreciate  the  sensation  of  dis- 
covering land — dry  land.  The  nine  days  on  water 
were  surely  a  long  period  of  time,  especially  for 
the  soldier  who  is  usually  a  landlubber,  otherwise 
he  would  have  joined  the  Navy  and  sailed  the  seven 
seas  to  his  heart's  delight. 


FRANCE  51 

The  four  big  liners  swung  into  single  file  just 
outside  the  Harbor  of  Brest  and  we  were  soon 
winding  thru  the  channel.  At  high  noon  we  dropt 
anchor. 

The  City  of  Brest  was  eagerly  scanned  from  our 
position.  The  stone  buildings  stood  irregularly 
upon  the  cliffs  giving  a  rugged  effect  to  the  city. 
I  was  reminded  of  the  ancient  ruins  of  Pompeii 
which  Bulwer  Lytton  has  so  vividly  depicted. 

About  the  harbor  was  every  evidence  of  Amer- 
ican construction.  A  broad  cement  wall  had  been 
constructed  across  the  channel  to  protect  the  ves- 
sels, riding  at  anchor,  from  the  midnight  prowling 
submarine.  In  this  sub-harbor  were  numerous 
transports,  submarine  cruisers,  auxilliary  cruisers 
and  darting  to  and  fro  about  the  bay  were, the 
numerous  gasoline  launches  bearing  officers  or 
messengers. 

Activity  was  at  its  height.  Here  the  products 
of  war  were  being  dropt;  men,  food,  guns,  can- 
non, shot  and  shell ;  equipment  for  infantry,  artil- 
lery, cavalry  and  engineers;  huge  Baldwin  loco- 
motives, airplanes  and  all  the  accessories  of  war- 
fare, industry  per  se. 

The  same  afternoon  a  large  portion  of  the  troops 
were  towed  to  the  dock  on  barges.  But  our  Bat- 
talion remained  aboard  and  for  three  days  and 
nights  we  labored  industriously  removing  the  con- 
tents of  the  huge  liner.  The  first  night  about 
8  p.  m.  a  detail  of  ten  men,  myself  included,  began 
the  job  of  unloading  the  mail.  Have  you  ever 
visited  a  granary  and  noticed  the  sacks  of  wheat 


52  THKU  THE  FIEES  OF  FRANCE 

or  oats  piled  high?  The  enormous  hold  at  the 
ship's  bottom  presented  just  such  a  sight. 

Millions  of  precious  letters,  filled  with  love, 
passed  thru  our  hands  that  night.  The  mail  sacks 
were  relayed  from  the  hold  to  a  waiting  net  which 
was  hoisted  to  the  top  deck  and  over  the  side  by 
a  wench.  It  was  done  systematically,  tho  noisily, 
and  each  net-full  represented  an  ordinary  auto 
truck  load. 

We  worked  four  hours  and  then  were  relieved 
by  the  next  shift.  Early  next  morning  the  last 
sack  was  carried  out  of  the  hold  and  from  all 
accounts  there  were  a  dozen  letters  waiting  for 
every  soldier  in  France,  besides  a  bundle  or  two. 

In  another  hold  of  the  ship  our  boys  accidentally 
shattered  a  box  containing  whisky  and  addrest  to 
the  Chief  Surgeon  for  medical  purposes.  Well — 
you  know  what  happened,  naturally  enough.  Sev- 
eral boys  nursed  sick  headaches  the  next  day. 


CHAPTER  15 

A  Lively  Reception 

On  the  22nd  of  June  at  11 :00  o'clock  our  Battery- 
placed  foot  upon  French  soil.  We  stood  in  com- 
pany front  upon  the  wharf  and  Captain  Ironhand 
pranced  about  in  all  his  splendor.  I  had  stuffed 
a  magazine  into  my  blouse  leaving  one  end  show- 
ing a  trifle.  This  the  Captain  discovered — he  was 
always  looking  for  trifles — and  suddenly  a  quick 
succession  of  words  played  in  taccato  time  upon 
my  guileless  head.  I  threw  the  magazine  over 
into  the  water.     It  was  ''Popular  Mechanics.'* 

Ten  minutes  later,  while  standing  between  two 
long  sheds  with  full  pack  awaiting  further  orders, 
several  of  the  boys  being  weary  sat  down  upon  the 
ground.  Others  were  munching  away  at  a  sand- 
wich and  boiled  egg.  I  had  thrown  my  pack  aside 
and  was  eating  leisurely  with  the  others  when  lo! 
and  behold,  who  goes  there?  Captain  Ironhand 
and  his  first  Sergeant  who  is  taking  the  names 
of  several  men.  We  were  quick  to  note  the  state 
of  affairs  and  I  deftly  crammed  my  egg  and  bread 
down  the  center  hole  of  a  roll  of  tar-paper  thinking 
this  to  be  the  source  of  trouble.  I  was  safe,  I 
thot,  but  wait!  The  reason  for  all  the  commotion 
was  that  orders  had  not  been  given  to  "unsling 
packs."  My  name  went  down  and  my  heart  went 
up  and  I  lost  my  lunch  in  the  bargain. 

Reader,  take  heart  for  Ironhand  will  soon  leave 


54  THRU  THE  FIRES  OF  FRANCE 

the  scene.  This  was  our  reception  upon  entering 
the  sacred  country  of  France,  home  of  Joan  of 
Arc. 

Soon  we  were  moving  along  the  streets  of  Brest 
and  the  children  greeted  us  singing:  "Hail,  hail 
the  gang's  all  here;  What  the  h —  do  we  care. 
What  the  h —  do  we  care." 

The  peasants  were  not  so  enthusiastic.  Had  not 
thousands  of  troops  preceeded  us?  Marching  col- 
umns of  khaki  were  now  an  ordinary  sight  in  the 
streets  of  Brest. 

The  children,  having  learned  of  the  generosity 
of  Americans  fresh  from  the  States,  ran  along 
begging  for  "souvenir  pour  papa,"  or  "chocolat," 
"un  sou,"  or  "deux  sou,"  or  as  many  as  one 
was  inclined  to  give  away.  I  possessed  a  few 
extra  U.  S.  coins  of  small  denomination  and  these 
I  scattered  over  the  heads  of  the  younger  folk. 

Private  Yourstone,  who  was  walking  next  to 
me  and  who  had  an  exceptionally  sweet  tooth,  sank 
ten  degrees  in  hunger  when  I  gave  my  last  bar 
of  chocolate  to  a  little  girl  with  rosy  cheeks  and 
wooden  shoes. 

The  custom  of  donating  presents  to  the  chil- 
dren soon  became  a  distressing  problem  and 
months  later  the  boys  would  frown  upon  a  child- 
beggar  and  utter,  "Al  a  toot  sweet" — meaning  to 
get  away  very  quick. 

We  mounted  the  village  street,  passed  thru  a 
long  tunnel  and  later  gained  the  upper  road.  As 
we  marched  thru  the  village  I  was  beset  by  an 
interplay  of  emotions  such  as  is  impossible  to  de- 


A   LIVELY   RECEPTION  55 

scribe.  The  quaint  French  of  Brest  are  strictly 
foreign  in  all  that  the  word  implies.  Were  the 
fancies  of  storybooks  and  childhood  fiction  coming 
to  life? 

Around  each  grog-shop  grouped  the  Frenchmen 
all  wearing  long  black  tunics,  wooden  shoes, 
picturesque  hats  and  smoking  long-stemmed 
pipes. 

The  stone  houses,  all  irregularly  built,  were  sur- 
rounded by  massive  wall-fences.  We  came  in  mid- 
summer and  all  vegetation  was  at  its  best.  Creep- 
ing vines  covered  the  high  walls  and  sweet  fleur- 
de-lis  poured  forth  its  perfume  on  every  breeze. 

Yet  another  emotion  seemed  to  grip  my  heart 
as  I  turned  to  the  Loved  One  at  home  8,000  miles 
away.  Just  as  the  Rockies  had  presented  the  first 
great  physical  barrier  the  Atlantic  now  represented 
the  next  and  I  came  to  realize  that  daytime  in 
France  meant  nighttime  in  the  States.  As  we 
marched  on  I  was  one  with  my  thots  and  while 
I  was  spinning  a  day-dream  around  The  Girl  an 
old  verse  came  to  mind  and  I  repeated : 
' '  I  pray  a  prayer  that  the  Easterns  do, 
May  the  peace  of  Allah  abide  with  you. ' ' 


CHAPTER  16 
Yea,  Unto  Eternity 

Two  miles  beyond  the  town  we  came  to  our  rest 
camp.  Camp  Pontenazin  by  name  and  a  product 
of  Napoleonic  times,  ancient  and  awkward.  Within 
the  four  walls  of  an  antiquated  barracks  and  upon 
hardwood  floors  we  spent  the  first  night  of  our 
rest  period. 

Next  day  our  hips  were  numb  and  our  tempers 
hot.  We  remained  within  this  camp  just  24  hours 
and  when  we  were  once  more  marching  down  the 
highway  we  gave  free  vent  to  our  feelings  and 
fairly  sang  out  into  the  summer  day. 

This  was  Sunday  and  the  French  people  were 
returning  from  church.  The  men  wore  large  brim 
hats,  gracefully  curved  upward  on  either  side  and 
with  ribbons  dangling  in  the  breeze.  All  carts  and 
wagons  are  of  the  two  wheel  variety  in  the  small 
towns  and  country  districts  of  France,  and  big 
and  cumbersome  they  are,  just  so  many  extra 
pounds  to  drag  around.  But  then  the  French  are 
accustomed  to  manufacturing  articles  which  are  to 
be  used  by  the  third  and  fourth  generations — yea, 
unto  eternity. 

One  incident  is  worth  mentioning  before  we 
leave  the  scene  of  the  rest  camp.  While  in  ranks 
upon  the  parade  grounds  my  friend  Sharp  was 
pounced  upon  by  Captain  Ironhand  and  was  ques- 
tioned as  to  the  absence  of  the  red  cord  upon  his 


YEA,   UNTO   ETERNITY  57 

hat.  In  the  shuffle  Sharp  had  misplaced  it — and 
this  excuse  he  gave. 

''It's  a  poor  soldier  who  can't  find  another," 
shot  back  the  Captain,  meaning,  of  course,  to  com- 
mit thievery  and  make  another  suffer.  A  splendid 
ethical  teaching  from  a  ''leader"  of  men! 

On  the  way  to  the  station  we  passed  a  group  of 
German  prisoners  under  guard.  This  was  our  first 
glimpse  of  the  Boche — the  hated  Hun.  Numerous 
smiles  and  glowing  cheeks  made  it  appear  that  they 
were  contented.  No  longer  was  it  their  lot  to  enter 
active  service  and  suffer  casualty.  Here  at  least 
they  were  assured  a  future  return  to  their  native 
land ;  here  they  received  more  pay,  better  food  and 
proper  shelter. 

Stories  leaked  thru  later,  when  we  reached  the 
Front,  to  the  effect  that  many  Germans,  learning 
that  the  Americans  paid  their  prisoners  good 
wages,  considering,  gave  up  in  surrender  and  I 
believe  this  to  be  true. 

At  the  railway  station  everything  was  made  in 
readiness  for  the  Battalion's  departure.  Old-fash- 
ioned sectional  coaches,  first,  second  and  third  class 
cars,  were  placed  at  our  disposal.  Officers  were 
prancing  about  discharging  their  various  duties, 
checking,  directing  and  making  copious  remarks 
upon  dozens  of  sheets  of  paper. 

Eight  men — 7  privates  and  1  corporal — were 
assigned  to  each  compartment.  One  squad  luckily 
fell  heir  to  a  second  class  coach,  plush  seats  and 
everything.  Corporal  Chenowith,  in  charge  of  our 
squad,  was  later  directed  to  report    for    rations 


58  THRU  THE  FIRES  OF  FRANCE 

which  he  did  and  returned  to  our  lair  with  seven 
cans  of  corned-beef  (canned  Charley),  four  cans 
baked  beans,  four  cans  tomatoes,  two  cans  jam  and 
twenty  packages  of  hard-tack ;  rations  which  were 
intended  for  two  days'  travel. 

Eight  healthy  physiques,  army  equipment  and 
cans  and  cans  of  ''grub"  all  tucked  away  in  one 
small  compartment  presented  a  novel  sight,  indeed. 
Our  experience  crossing  the  States  in  fine  Pullmans 
was  now  about  to  be  placed  in  Class  A-1.  French 
rolling  stock  fell  below  par  before  we  were  two 
miles  out. 

We  took  our  ''shut-eye"  or  naps  sitting  up  ex- 
cept Brazie,  who  managed  to  spread  out  his  limbs 
to  his  comfort  and  our  discomfort. 

Then  the  food  problem  had  to  be  settled  but 
fortunately  we  had  a  cook  in  the  crowd  who  por- 
tioned out  for  seven  meals  and  served  the  rations 
in  equal  amount.  ' '  Drag ' '  LaGrange  was  the  name 
of  this  fine  fellow;  in  fact  so  fine  and  so  capable 
was  he  that  he  usually  landed  a  good  position  in 
the  Battery.  For  this  reason  the  boys  argued  that 
he  had  a  "pull,"  or  better  still,  a  "drag"  with 
the  Top  Sergeant.  For  months  I  knew  this  boy  by 
no  other  name. 

The  following  is  a  list  of  nicknames  which  have 
been  firmly  fastened  to  each  member;  nicknames 
that  came  about  in  a  natural  way  as  all  true  nick- 
names must: 

"Gopher"  Ward,  "Ham"  Miller,  "Snapper" 
Ingram,  "Peg"  O'Neill,  "Student"  Donley, 
"Feet"  Faulk,   "Frog"  Foix,  "Pigeye"  Jester, 


YEA,  UNTO   ETERNITY  59 

''P'ine  Points"  Lyon,  ''Old  Man"  Daniel, 
"Beany"  Walker,  ''Bessie"  Yourstone,  "Eope 
Neck"  Bedford,  "Curly"  Best,  "Hay  Shaker" 
Brazie,  "Lieut."  Herron,  "Ironman"  Jenifer, 
"Kike"  Kottinger,  "Matty"  Mathews,  "Lead" 
Needham,  "Mother"  Pelbrough,  "Deacon"  Pow- 
ers, "Military"  Sewell,  "Auk"  Sterne,  "Eagle 
Beack"  Sundquist,  "Kid"  Thompson,  and 
"Handy"  Willian.    All  expressive,  all  familiar. 

The  boys  usually  called  me  Stone  but  some  ven- 
tured to  call  me  "Stony" — and  somehow,  you 
know,  I  felt  slighted.  There  is  something  inti- 
mate, something  comforting  in  a  nickname,  how- 
ever ugly  or  grotesque. 


CHAPTER  17 

From  Brest  to  Paris 

We  departed  from  Brest  at  two  in  the  after- 
noon and  the  first  few  hours  we  rather  enjoyed. 
It  was  medicine  to  counteract  both  the  twelve  days 
spent  on  the  high  sea  and  the  one  night  on  the 
hard  floor  back  at  Napoleon's  hut. 

The  country  all  about  was  under  cultivation  and 
was  "greeny"  green.  One  thing  we  Americans 
could  not  understand:  Considering  the  density  of 
population  for  the  small  state  of  France  we  could 
not  see  why  so  many  acres  were  taken  up  by 
hedges,  useless  hedges.  But  on  second  thot  I  knew 
the  natural  beauty  which  the  hedges  afforded  and 
knew  it  satisfied  the  temperament  of  the  French 
peoples. 

On  a  Texas  farm,  for  instance,  one  finds  a  square 
house  and  a  square  barn,  both  of  brilliant  color; 
and  as  is  generally  the  rule  there  is  a  straight 
path  from  the  front  door  to  the  front  gate. 

Now  in  France  this  is  not  so.  On  a  side  hill 
(France  is  mostly  hilly)  you  discover  a  stone  house, 
ancient  and  moss-covered.  An  irregular  path, 
hedged  and  crooked,  leads  up  to  and  around  the 
house  according  to  the  topography  of  the  land.  As 
you  approach  the  stone  cottages  you  discover  that 
additions  have  been  made  to  these  clumsy  houses 
from  generation  to  generation  and  it  would  re- 
quire no  insight  to  see  that  the  latest  additions  are 


FROM  BREST  TO  PARIS  61 

always  ''plastered"  on  where  they  most  convenient- 
ly fit  regardless  of  architecture  or  style. 

House  and  barn  are  one  and  the  owner  presides 
over  his  stock  and  lives  with  them  under  intimate 
circumstances. 

All  the  farms  are  pieced  together  much  the 
same  as  a  crazy-quilt.  Wide  hedges  surround  each 
farm  and  subdivide  it,  especially  if  there  are 
numerous  physical  barriers. 

The  small,  quaint  locomotive  went  dashing  for- 
ward, its  whistle  striking  high  G  at  every  blast 
and  our  frail  coaches  followed  merrily  along. 

All  meals  were  taken  under  difficulties  tho  we 
did  manage  to  get  a  large  portion  of  the  food  into 
our  wide-spreading  mouths.  Note  the  expression: 
"Hey,  Shortie,  grab  this  with  your  lunch  hooks 
and  put  it  behind  the  counter."  Meaning,  gentle 
reader,  that  we  were  being  cautioned  to  firmly  hold 
the  food  with  our  hands  and  see  to  it  that  we 
put  the  said  food  into  our  mouth  and  swallowed 
same.  Expressions  of  this  character  no  doubt  were 
responsible  for  a  limited  vocabulary.  Or  was  our 
limited  vocabulary  responsible  for  the  expressions? 

Slang  has  one  rival — profanity.  The  provincial 
soldier  is  profanity  incarnate.  And  I  can  assure 
you  that  95%  (my  friend  Woolaver  who  is  this 
minute  sitting  at  a  near  table,  claims  99%)  use 
profanity.  And  as  the  coaches  dashed  forward 
bouncing  and  churning  the  whole  of  us,  equipment 
and  all,  nothing  would  sooth  the  nerves  quite  so 
much  as  profanity  and  later  a  cigarette  for  good 
measure. 


62  THBU  THE  FIRES  OF  FRANCE 

Then  there  was  another  annoyance.  Some 
claimed  that  the  corned-beef  was  nothing  more  nor 
less  than  horse-meat,  just  plain  ordinary  dead 
horse  done  up  with  seasoning  and  placed  in  cans. 
But  hunger  got  the  best  of  us  and  later  we  ate 
without  a  whimper. 

The  reader  will  appreciate  and  understand  my 
position  when  I  state  that  previous  to  entering  the 
army  I  was  a  vegetarian.  For  four  years  I  touched 
neither  flesh,  fish  or  fowl.  My  diet  consisted  wholly 
of  fruit,  vegetables,  bread,  dairy  products,  nuts, 
raisins,  olives,  maple  sugar,  honey  and  many  other 
good  wholesome  foods. 

On  this  trip  we  became  intimately  acquainted 
with  old  hard-tack.  Now  hard-tack  is  just  plain 
white  flour.  The  baker  makes  a  paste,  using  water, 
and  when  it  is  just  the  right  consistency  into  the 
oven  the  tack  goes  and  bakes  and  bakes;  or,  is 
there  pressure  brot  to  bear  upon  the  innocent  flour 
and  compressed  to  the  nth  degree  of  hardness? 
My  gums  were  made  tender  even  to  a  week  later. 

We  rolled  into  the  outskirts  of  Paris  about  7 :00 
p.  m.  on  the  second  day.  The  Chicago-New  York 
Limited  would  have  made  the  trip  in  nine  hours. 
One  lad  spied  the  Eiffel  Tower,  the  tallest  structure 
in  the  world,  and  we  then  knew  that  we  were 
entering  the  metropolis  of  France.  We  were  not 
informed  as  to  our  destination;  some  argued  we 
were  going  to  the  Front  and  detrain  under  the 
fire  of  the  Boche  guns  and  there  go  into  fight- 
ing— with  bayonets  fixed,  even. 

But  all  this  faded  with  the  sight  of  Tour  Eiffel 


FROM  BREST   TO   PARIS  OS 

and  we  secretly  harbored  a  desire  to  remain  in  or 
near  Paris,  for  a  while  at  least.  Which  desire  was 
fulfilled  for  later  in  the  evening  we  came  to  the 
end  of  our  rough  journey  at  Stains  near  St.  Denis 
near  Paris. 

Twenty-six  days  had  elapsed  since  the  day  we 
left  San  Diego,  California.  We  had  traveled  from 
the  extreme  southwest  corner  of  the  United  States 
to  Paris,  a  distance  of  8,000  miles,  or  one-third  the 
circumference  of  the  earth,  in  the  interests  of  war. 
The  trip  proved  a  strenuous  one  and  when  at  last 
we  rolled  into  straw  bunks  at  two  o'clock  in  the 
early  morning  we  fell  into  a  lethargic  sleep. 


CHAPTER  18 
Fort  de  Stains 

Fort  de  Stains  is  one  fort  of  a  series  which  sur- 
rounds Paris.  It  was  converted  into  an  Anti- 
Aircraft  School  and  Headquarters  soon  after  the 
United  States  entered  the  war  and  it  was  here 
that  our  Battery  went  into  final  training,  leaving 
for  the  Front  nine  weeks  later. 

At  a  distance  Fort  de  Stains  appears  to  be  a 
small  innocent  hill  covered  with  small  trees.  Ap- 
proaching it  upon  the  road  that  leads  out  of  the 
small  village  of  Stains  you  travel  in  a  northwester- 
ly direction,  pass  a  few  scattered  farm  houses  and 
then  near  the  entrance  you  will  find  a  wine-shop 
where  young  men  purchase  vin  rouge  and  vin  hlanc. 
You  turn  a  corner  and  follow  a  road  cut  deeply 
in  the  earth.  One  more  slight  turn  and  the  front 
gate  comes  into  sight.  Looking  up  to  the  massive 
arch  one  reads— 1874  FORT  de  STAINS  1878. 

The  arched  tunnel  is  about  one  hundred  feet  in 
length  and  the  night  we  entered  the  Fort  it  was 
dark,  very  dark,  and  as  we  streamed  in  thru  this 
tunnel  I  had  visions  of  a  cliff-dweller's  palace  or 
an  underground  city  where  one  meets  with  strange 
people  and  strange  sights. 

It  was  a  standing  joke  within  the  Battery  that 
several  of  the  boys  on  this  occasion  had  really 
mistaken  the  deep  cut  road  and  the  tunnel  for 
trenches  at  the  Front.  As  a  matter  of  fact  we 
were  25  miles  from  the    Chateau-Thierry    Front. 


FORT  DE   STAINS  65 

The  boys  soon  discovered  their  misstake,  however, 
and  were  thankful. 

After  w^e  had  arrived  at  Paris  and  waited  till 
darkness  set  in  to  allow  for  a  final  troop  movement 
under  cover  of  darkness,  we  began  the  last  lap  of 
our  journey.  The  train  switched  from  one  track 
to  another,  darting  this  direction  and  that  direction 
until  all  sense  of  direction  was  done — a  jumbled 
mass.  We  traveled  on  and  on  and  then,  finally, 
at  a  few  minutes  past  midnight,  we  came  to  an 
abrupt  stop.  Orders  came  to  clear  the  cars  of 
equipment,  sling  packs  and  prepare  to  march. 

Trucks  were  at  hand  to  receive  the  Battery's 
ordnance  and  property  and  the  usual  orders  were 
exchanged  between  the  officers.  It  was  very  dark 
and  only  an  officer  was  permitted  to  use  a  flash- 
light. In  the  distance  we  could  see  the  flare  of 
artillery  fire. 

While  skirting  the  small  city  of  Stains  we  passed 
several  French  guards  wearing  helmets.  The 
country  seemed  lifeless  and  not  having  the  slight- 
est idea  as  to  our  geographical  position  the  reader 
will  understand  why  the  boys  were  seemingly  enter- 
ing the  Front  Line  Trenches. 

Fort  de  Stains,  like  all  other  forts  and  cities  in 
Francf,  is  surrounded  by  a  moat.  In  olden  times 
this  moat,  filled  with  water,  presented  a  real  bar- 
rier to  the  enemy,  especially  if  the  invader  or 
Knight  of  Old  retained  his  steel  armor  plate. 
High  rock  walls  surj'ound  the  fort  and  there  is 
but  one  entrance — the  hundred  foot  tunnel. 

The   space  within  the  walls    represents    about 


66  THBU  THE  FIRES  OF  FRANCE 

twenty  acres.  All  buildings  are  of  stone  and  buried 
beneath  ten  to  twenty  feet  of  earth.  Stories  were 
circulated  telling  of  a  wonderful  arsenal  somewhere 
within  the  bowels  of  the  earth  and  of  secret  tun- 
nels leading  into  unknown  parts,  but  during  my 
residence  at  this  Fort  I  saw  nothing  that  would  in- 
dicate an  arsenal  of  a  wonderful  character.  I  did, 
however,  discover  a  couple  of  secret  passages. 

The  second  night  at  the  Fort  broke  out  in  aerial 
activity  and  to  us  it  was  the  time  of  a  great  and 
solemn  initiation.  Night  raiders  were  storming 
Paris  and  the  anti-aircraft  defense  guns  sent  out 
an  ominous  night  cry,  an  alarm  well  known  to 
Parisians.  We  were  tucked  away  in  sleep,  appar- 
ently, but  in  reality  every  nerve  and  fiber  of  our 
bodies  was  taut  with  phantasm  for  we  could  see 
the  German  war-machine  rolling  in  on  Paris — in 
our  minds. 

The  airmen  dropt  several  deadly  missiles  on 
Paris,  which  we  could  distinguish  above  the  din  of 
anti-aircraft  fire ;  and  later  retired  to  the  German 
line.  Once  more  all  was  quiet  and  we  finally  fell 
into  a  restless  sleep. 

All  thru  the  nine  weeks  at  the  Fort  we  were 
never  without  excitement.  Several  daylight  raids 
were  attempted  under  our  very  eyes  but  now  the 
novelty  was  gone  and  we  scarce  winked  an  eye 
when  the  planes  came  on.  Instead  we  would  stand 
in  the  open  fields  and  watch  the  side-show. 

Big  Bertha,  74  miles  away,  dropt  a  shell  two 
blocks  over  the  way  and  the  explosion  hurled  the 
earth  several  hundred  feet  in  the  air.    It  was  al- 


FOET   DE    STAINS  67 

ways  a  question  where  the  next  shell  would  land. 
Nearly  every  morning  she  was  active  and  we  could 
count  the  shells  at  a  fifteen  minute  interval  as 
they  landed  within  the  confines  of  Paris. 

Later,  at  the  Front,  when  we  had  been  initiated 
into  real  artillery  activity,  we  remembered  the  pop- 
gun warfare  around  Fort  de  Stains  with  a  smile. 


CHAPTEH  19 

Comedy  and  Tragedy 

Every  soldier  was  his  own  laundryman  and  a 
wash-tub  crew  gathered  daily  around  the  large 
cement  basin  to  scrub  their  clothing  French  style, 
using  a  brush  in  lieu  of  a  wash-board.  A  good 
stiff  brush  will  work  wonders  even  in  cold  water. 

A  bit  of  ''elbow-grease"  often  transformed  a 
young  fellow,  in  fact  as  the  days  went  by  you 
could  count  several  real  "classy"  dressers;  gentle- 
men a  la  Uncle  Sam.  Additional  clothes  were  pur- 
chased in  St.  Denis  or  Paris,  also  linen,  silk  hand- 
kerchiefs, perfume,  good-looking  service  caps  and 
special  spiral  leggins.  Jack  Renner  was  an  ex- 
cellent type  of  dresser  as  was  also  Joe  Kirk. 

Every  morning  reveille  was  sounded  at  6  :15  and 
sleepily  the  men  aroused  themselves  to  don  their 
military  attire,  after  which  side-arms  and  rifle  or 
revolver  completed  their  equipment.  Out  thru  the 
long  narrow  halls  the  Batteries  Avould  crowd  and 
then  form  in  a  company  front.  Every  man  must 
be  accounted  for  and  those  who  attempted  to  take 
a  few  extra  winks,  and  miss  reveille  as  a  result, 
were  punished  by  a  week's  K  P  or  some  other 
disagreeable  fatigue. 

So  it  behooved  every  man  to  answer  the  detest- 
able bugle  even  tho  he  die  in  the  attempt.  One 
can  easily  imagine  the  sweet  flow  of  epithets  every 


COMEDY  AND  TRAOEDY  69 

morning  that  sounded  forth  from  deep  bass  voices, 
amid  "blinky"  eyes. 

Breakfast  was  served  at  6:30.  Now  breakfast 
or  any  other  meal  was  always  a  source  of  much 
movement — quick  movement  and  merriment.  The 
quick  movement  was  accomplished  in  this  manner, 
the  object  being  to  be  the  first  man  in  the  mess- 
line:  Rush  from  the  ranks  into  a  small  hall  in 
sardine-packed  fashion,  wiggle  and  squirm  down 
the  hall,  around  a  corner,  then  into  another  very 
dark  hall,  into  a  small  door,  down  a  narrow  aisle 
and  finally,  the  individual's  bunk  reached,  there 
would  be,  after  dropping  gun  and  side-arms  and 
grabbing  mess-tin,  the  inverse  movement  down  the 
aisle,  thru  the  door,  down  the  hall,  around  the 
corner,  down  a  pair  of  cement  stairs  into  the 
basement  and  finally  stop  before  the  serving  bench 
all  breathless  and  smiles. 

This  movement  (it  became  worse  as  the  time 
went  on)  was  done  in  thirty  seconds  to  one  min- 
ute by  the  watch.  The  usual  noise  and  racket 
was  in  evidence  and  there  would  be  shouting  such 
as,  ''run  you  mess-hounds"  or  ''go  and  get  it"  or 
just  ordinary  plain  excessive  guttural  non-music 
and  screeching  and  whistling.  The  officer  in 
charge  never  interfered  with  this  ceremony. 
Rather  he  would  stand  by  and  watch  the  perform- 
ance with  interest  and  glee. 

All  meals  were  taken  upon  the  ground  French 
fashion.  With  mess-pan  heaping  each  man  would 
choose  a  plot  of  ground,  squat  and  begin  the  per- 
formance.    It  was  June  and  July  when  our  Bat- 


70  THEU  THE  FIRES  OF  FRANCE 

tery  went  into  training  and  during  those  hot 
months  there  were  many  flies,  yellow  bees  and  much 
dust. 

If  a  careless  fly  would  be  so  unfortunate  as  to 
slip  into  the  soup — well,  we  were  hungry,  or  we 
could  not  get  a  second  helping,  or  the  kitchen 
would  be  too  far  away,  or — well,  the  fly  would  be 
rudely  extracted,  cursed  and  then  we  just  pro- 
ceeded with  our  mess  in  an  unconcerned  manner. 
We,  no  doubt,  devoured  many  flies^ — to  the  sor- 
row of  the  fly. 

Each  man  washed  his  mess-tins  in  a  bucket  of 
soapy  water  supplied  by  the  kitchen  force,  then 
would  immerse  the  same  tins  in  a  bucket  of  clear 
water,  after  which  each  man  plied  his  individual 
dish  towel.    These  poor  towels  would  soon  be  stiff. 

And  now  I  have  given  you  a  hint  as  to  the  be- 
ginning of  a  day.  All  days  that  followed  were 
alike  except  Sunday.  On  this  day  we  were  al- 
lowed to  take  our  extra  winks  and  no  work  was 
given. 

Ralph  Ginn  was  our  first  representative  in  the 
guard-house  or  better,  the  '^whosgow."  Ginn  had 
forgotten  himself  and  talked  back  to  a  Sergeant, 
but  he  was  soon  free  again  and  sang  louder  than 
ever. 

Steger  cooked  industriously  for  a  month  and 
then  one  fine  day  disappeared  from  view.  Three 
days  passed  and  then  a  guard  was  sent  to  St. 
Denis  to  find  him.  The  guard  did  his  job  in  quick 
order  and  returned  to  camp  with  his  captive. 
Steger  spent  the  following  days  in  the  guard-house 
charged  with  drunkenness. 


COMEDY  AND  TRAGEDY  71 

Others  disturbed  the  peace  or  broke  the  rules 
and  were  incarcerated.     The  saddest  sight  I  saw 

while  at  the  Fort  was  the  case  of  H ,  a  man, 

by  the  way,  who  came  from  another  Battery.  A 
Lieutenant  had  searched  this  suspected  man  and 
found  eighty  francs  of  another's  money  concealed 
in  his  shoe.     A  plain  thief. 

As  H sat  upon  a  small  stool  in  the  cell  he 

stared  at  the  floor  in  silence.  His  manner  seemed 
strange  but  I  did  not  pay  unusual  attention  to 
him  as  I  walked  my  post.  Suddenly  I  found  him 
outstretched  upon  the  cell  cot,  stiff  and  trembling. 
I  called  the  medical  corps  Sergeant  who  returned 
and  poured  spirits  of  ammonia  into  his  open  mouth. 

This,  he  argued,  would  bring  H to  his  senses. 

But  it  did  not  and  the  prisoner  became  violent.  We 
held  him  down  and  the  sergeant  gave  him  the 
needle. 

H relaxed  somewhat  and  then  again  grew 

stiff.  More  ammonia  was  administered  and  another 
needle  of  morphine  was  injected  into  his  physical 
being.  He  finally  dropt  into  a  peaceful  sleep, 
which  was  fortunate,  for  I  am  satisfied  that  he  had 
unconsciously  practiced  self -hypnosis  and  was  well 
on  the  road  to  insanity. 

According  to  the  laws  of  medicine  ammonia 
makes  one  deathly  sick  if  not  thrown  from  the  sys- 
tem, but  H awoke  later  as  from  a  refreshing 

sleep.  A  strange  case.  His  sentence  was  six 
months  and  two-thirds  pay  forfeited. 

In  France  the  American  soldier  was  allowed  to 
purchase  light  wines  and  beer  which  was  contrary 


72  THRU  THE  FIRES  OF  FRANCE 

to  the  rule  in  the  States.  The  first  weeks  produced 
many  intoxicated  men  from  Battery  B.  Several 
of  our  boys  came  to  grief,  returning  to  the  Fort  all 
soiled,  sick  and  francless.  Others  were  not  quite 
so  indulgent  and  were  comical  to  see.  The  sodden 
drunk  is  a  nuisance;  the  light  drinker  is  often  a 
great  source  of  enjoyment. 

''Deacon"  Powers  comes  to  mind  as  represent- 
ing our  comical  drunk.  Once  he  returned  to  the 
barracks  under  the  influence  of  liquor.  He  pro- 
ceeded to  praise  or  condole,  shout  or  weep  with  all 
whom  he  contacted;  he  laughed  and  cried  in  turn 
and  performed  in  all  manner  of  grotesque  move- 
ments. Next  morning  ''Dec"  was  none  the  worse 
for  his  experience. 

Corporal  Bibby  is  about  the  happiest  man  1 
know  and  is  ten  times  merrier  under  the  cup. 
He  and  Sergeant  Miller  would  have  some  lively 
arguments  for  the  benefit  of  their  audiences. 

"Auk"  Sterne  would  get  "stewed"  and  come 
home  walking  on  top  of  the  world.  He  would 
imagine  himself  a  supreme  lord  and  completely 
and  fully  satisfied  with  himself  and  everything  in 
life. 

"Pigeon"  Jester  wore  a  perpetual  smile;  this 
smile  became  a  decided  grin  when  "pickled.'* 
Honey  is  a  happy-go-lucky  lad  and  spent  several 
francs  for  vin  rouge  and  vin  hlanc. 

Tahar,  the  "terrible  Turk,"  one  fair  evening 
invited  me  to  have  supper  with  him  at  a  French 
tavern.  I  went.  We  had  a  sumptuous  meal  placed 
before  our  eyes  and  a  bottle  of  choice  wine  as  well. 


COMEDY  AND  TRAGEDY  73 

Now  I  am  a  teetotaler  and  had  not  touched  the 
cup  since  my  foolish  boyhood  days,  but  on  this 
occasion  I  partook  of  a  glass,  for  old  time's  sake, 
you  know. 

Tahar  and  I  came  home  that  night  somewhat 
''under  the  weather"  and  I  remember  later  how 
I  tapped  my  friend  Goddard  on  the  shoulder  say- 
ing, "Your  old  friend  stepped  out  tonight."  After 
that  day  I  was  known  as  the  ''high-stepper,"  but 
soon  Jimmie  Adams  robbed  me  of  the  beautiful 
title. 

It  has  oft  times  been  said  that  France  has  been 
drunk  for  200  years.  Every  Frenchman  is  a  con- 
sumer of  wine  from  the  cradle  to  the  grave.  Wine 
is  the  National  drink  and  replaces  the  pure  water. 
Practically  every  corner  store  in  town  and  along 
the  highway  is  a  grog-shop;  every  restaurant  is 
one-half  saloon. 

The  average  Frenchman  is  undersized  and  I  have 
no  doubt  that  the  National  drink  is  responsible. 
State  prohibition  in  France  is  a  wild  dream,  for 
the  present  generation,  at  least. 

If  the  boys  had  limited  their  drink  to  light  wine 
and  beer  only  it  Avould  have  caused  less  trouble,  but 
the  crafty  French  bar-keepers,  violating  the  ord- 
nance, would  sell  cognac,  champagne  and  triple- 
sec  to  the  soldiers.  Our  cook  was  a  consumer  of 
the  last  named  and  he  usually  did  the  drunk  all 
"dressed  up."  His  periodical  sprees  were  always 
disasterous  but  he  would  repeat  the  drunken  orgies 
in  spite  of  all  the  advice  and  generous  help  from 
boys  in  the  Battery. 


CHAPTER  20 
Captain  Ironhand  Falls 

The  first  days  at  Fort  de  Stains  were  spent  in 
listening  to  lectures  and  hearing  all  the  latest 
**dope"  about  modern  warfare,  especially  that  per- 
taining to  airplane  defense. 

Just  as  the  enlisted  personnel  was  receiving  in- 
struction, so  also  were  the  commissioned  officers  and 
Captain  Ironhand  left  our  Battery  to  proceed  to 
school  at  a  Chateau  several  miles  from  the  F"ort. 
He  never  returned  to  the  command  of  our  Battery 
but  on  several  occasions  paid  us  visits. 

It  was  a  month  later  that  this  poor  defeated 
man — ^he  had  not  made  good  at  school — came  to 
see  "his  boys**  who  happened  to  be  training  on 
the  guns  at  the  time  under  the  command  of  Lieut. 
Emerick  (later  made  Captain). 

Ironhand  sat  down  in  the  field  like  a  boy  and 
Sergeant  Fleck  sat  with  him.  With  tears  in  his 
eyes  he  said,  ''Fleck,  practice  the  Golden  Rule.  I 
am  now  receiving  just  what  I  gave."  About  this 
time  Ironhand  became  ill  and  then  went  to  the 
hospital.  He  was  suffering  from  some  internal 
trouble. 

Captain  Ironhand  had  one  friend  in  the  Battery, 
a  one  Mr.  Private  Abdullah  B.  Tahar.  To  this 
''terrible  Turk"  the  skipper  would  unfold  his 
troubles — and  it  was  pitiful  to  see;  this  man  who 
had  played  the  big  game;  who  had  stalked  about 
all  haughty  and  proud. 


CAPTAIN  lEONHAND  FALLS  75 

''Whatsoever  a  man  soweth,  that  shall  he  also 
reap/' 

Months  later  my  friend  Woolaver  received  a 
letter  from  his  mother  residing  in  Los  Angeles, 
telling  of  a  one  Captain  Ironhand  parading  osten- 
tatiously about  the  streets  of  the  Angel  City  and 
posing  as  a  wounded  soldier — a  wound  from  a 
bursting  shell  was  the  tale. 

And  so  the  last  day  on  the  field,  sitting  with 
Sergeant  Fleck,  we  saw  this  man  for  the  last  time, 
and  when  it  was  understood  by  the  boys  that  Iron- 
hand  would  not  return  to  torture  us  further  we 
breathed  deeply. 

But  now  our  reward  was  at  hand.  Lieut.  John 
H.  Emerick  had  come  to  our  rescue,  and  a  bet- 
ter finer  nobler  soldier  I  have  yet  to  meet.  Lieut. 
Emerick  was  a  man.  His  cards  were  face  up,  as 
he  once  told  a  private,  and  he  wanted  us  to  play 
the  same  game.  Nothing  henceforth  would  be  sec- 
recy nor  would  he  tolerate  unfair  play  of  any 
sort. 

The  nine  weeks  that  this  gentleman  remained 
with  the  Battery  as  instructor  were  sufficient  to 
re-make  the  entire  personnel.  Everyone  straight- 
ened up  and  put  his  heart  and  soul  into  the  work. 
Everyone  played  the  game.  To  this  day  the  men 
remember  Lieut.  Emerick — yes,  they  will  always 
remember  him. 

Thru  the  days  that  followed  we  drilled,  drilled, 
drilled.  Four  gun  crews  and  the  range  section 
soon  became  keen  rivals  and  with  a  boisterous 
voice,  yet  gentle  in  spirit,  each  man  would  ascend 


76  THRU  THE  FIRES  OF  FRANCE 

to  the  mountain  top  and  proclaim  to  the  world  the 
merits  of  his  gun  crew.  Soon  each  crew  could 
"call  off"  and  then  ''post"  in  a  snappy  manner. 

Lieut.  Emerick  was  a  worker  and  whenever 
there  was  a  lag  in  the  field  he  would  stir  the  men 
and  fill  them  with  enthusiasm.  His  short  talks  to 
us  on  ''A  Soldier's  Duty"  were  taken  to  heart  by 
the  men.  I  shall  not  go  into  technique  of  anti- 
aircraft artillery  here,  but  will  cover  the  subject 
in  an  interesting  way  when  we  reach  the  Front. 


CHAPTER  21 

Local.  Travel 

Passes  were  allowed  the  second  day  at  Fort  de 
Stains.  Local  passes  to  Stains,  St.  Denis,  La 
Bourge,  Perrifeitte  were  issued  on  week  days  and 
Paris  passes  were  given  Saturdays  and  Sundays. 
Sgt.  Ledgerton  worked  overtime  on  the  pass  list 
and,  mathematician  that  he  was,  he  could  not 
divide  ten  passes,  the  number  allowed,  by  a  hun- 
dred. Try  as  he  would  there  were  always  ninety 
men  over. 

Now  to  keep  ninety  good  husky  men  out  of  Paris 
on  Saturdays  and  Sundays  w^as  a  task.  All  barriers 
at  the  Fort  even  vanished  under  the  ingenious 
schemes  of  American  youth  and  soon  the  local 
travel  became  extensive. 

After  drill  hours  it  w^as  a  common  sight  to  see 
a  stream  of  khaki-clad  men  meandering  off  to  the 
several  villages  surrounding  the  Fort.  After  in- 
spection on  Saturday  the  Fort  was  literally  de- 
serted. 

JVly  first  trip  to  Paris  was  made  without  a  pass. 
Impatient  to  see  the  famous  French  city  I  chanced 
the  trip  on  a  scrap  of  paper  which  I  called  a  pass, 
but  which  was  as  invalid  as  an  American  nickel  in 
China.  The  mlitary  police  in  Paris  could  make 
trouble  for  one  without  a  proper  pass  but  I  was 
willing  to  take  a  long  chance.  On  the  very  day 
that  I  was  in  Paris  Sgt.  Hisey  was  picked  up  with- 


78  THRU  THE  FIRES  OF  FRANCE 

out  a  pass,  but  he  managed  to  bribe  the  M.  P.  and 
escaped  from  the  clutches  of  the  law  just  fifty 
francs  short. 

From  Fort  de  Stains  to  Paris,  via  La  Opera,  the 
trip  is  made  in  about  an  hour.  First  is  the  fifteen 
minute  walk  to  the  village  of  Stains.  Then,  if 
luck  is  with  you,  you  catch  the  double-decked 
shaky  street -car.  We  always  retired  to  the  top 
story  to  see  the  sights,  you  know.  In  motion  the 
car  would  swing  and  rock  like  a  cradle  making  all 
future  movements  very  uncertain,  and  we  often 
looked  forward  to  a  good  healthy  smash-up. 

This  short  line  runs  into  St.  Denis  in  about  ten 
minutes  with  a  fare  mounting  up  to  the  magnificent 
sum  of  one  and  a  half  pennies.  At  St.  Denis  you 
transfer  to  a  yellow  street-car,  and  a  conductor- 
woman,  dressed  in  black  with  belt,  purse  and  com- 
bination transfer  rack  strapped  about  the  waist, 
collects  your  fare  in  a  very  impersonal  manner. 

All  public  utilities  employed  women  during  the 
war  and  the  street-car  was  a  fair  example.  The 
women  accomplished  their  work  and  were  efficient 
but  a  source  of  much  interest  to  Americans. 

The  boys  always  had  difficulty  in  paying  their 
fares.  To  escape  revealing  our  ignorance  we  would 
pay  in  a  silver  coin  and  receive  the  change  in  cop- 
per trusting  to  the  calculations  of  our  woman- 
conductor.  As  a  consequence  of  this  practice, 
which  we  carried  into  all  our  business  transactions, 
we  usually  returned  to  the  Fort  with  a  pocket  full 
of  "clankers"  or  coppers,  five  and  ten  centime 
pieces. 


LOCAL  TRAVEL  79 

For  fifteen  centimes  you  can  ride  first-class  to 
the  gates  of  Paris.  Towards  the  end  of  this  slight 
journey  our  car  would  usually  be  filled  and  I  can 
now  hear  our  conductor-lady  shouting  to  the  wait- 
ing passengers,  '* complete/^  pronounced  com-play, 
then  blow  lustily  upon  a  whistle  which  reminded 
us  of  the  fish-man  back  home.  Many  times  the 
Americans  would  cry  out, ' '  fish, ' '  to  the  amusement 
of  all  aboard. 

At  the  city  gate  you  descend  into  the  depths  of 
the  earth  to  catch  the  underground  Metropolitan, 
called  Metro  for  convenience.  About  twenty  min- 
utes ride  brings  you  to  La  Opera  or  Place  de  la 
Concorde,  the  central  points  of  Paris.  The  Metro 
underground  of  Paris  is,  beyond  doubt,  one  of  the 
finest  systems  in  the  world.  For  fifteen  centimes 
one  can  ride  second-class  from  one  end  of  the  city 
to  the  other,  a  distance  of  many  miles — comfort- 
ably and  quickly. 


CHAPTER  22 

A  Parisian 

On  my  initial  trip  to  Paris  I  met  with  a  French- 
man who  could  speak  English.  This  fine-looking 
gentleman,  an  ex-soldier  and  now  manufacturer  of 
French  automatic  machine  guns,  attracted  to  my 
American  uniform,  no  doubt,  came  to  my  rescue  as 
interpreter  and  assisted  the  street  car  conductor- 
woman  in  transacting  our  business  interests  which 
involved  the  huge  sum  of  a  penny  and  a  half. 

We  fell  to  conversation  and  later  came  up  for 
air  at  the  station  La  Concorde.  I  looked  upon 
Paris  for  the  first  time  on  this  occasion  and  my 
companion  sought  my  immediate  impression.  I 
gazed  upon  the  uniform  buildings,  the  large  Place 
de  la  Concorde  with  the  Obelisque  in  the  immediate 
foreground  and  then  across  the  River  Seine  to  the 
Chambres  des  Deputes. 

I  gave  my  friend  an  enthusiastic  answer  which 
pleased  him.  He  was  a  Parisian — he  loved  Paris 
and  was  proud  of  his  beloved  city,  this  I  could  see. 
We  walked  over  the  large  square  to  the  River  Seine, 
caught  a  car  and  later  come  upon  the  Tour  Eiffel. 
An  improvised  wooden  fence  surrounded  the  giant 
steel  structure  and  sentries  paced  their  beats  in 
military  fashion.  All  strangers  were  kept  away 
and  the  French  military  authorities  guarded  their 
wireless  station  with  jealous  care. 

Prom    the    tower    we    recrossed  the  Seine  and 


A   PARISIAN  81 

passed  thru  the  scenic  and  beautiful  grounds  of 
the  Trocadero  Palace  and  a  few  minutes  later  came 
upon  the  Arc  de  Triomphe;  then  a  brisk  walk 
along  the  Champs-Elysees  brot  us  back  to  the  city 
proper.  I  was  somewhat  uneasy  without  a  pass,  but 
being  busily  engaged  with  an  authoritative  French- 
man and  apparently  upon  serious  business  the 
M.  P.  gave  me  no  attention. 

We  talked  about  many  things:  War,  politics, 
economics  and  foreign  relationships  and  even  ven- 
tured upon  delicate  ground — religion.  My  friend 
handed  President  Wilson  and  gave  me  to  under- 
stand that  all  France  worshiped  our  great  states- 
man. 

We  paused,  in  our  walk,  to  enter  the  Madelaine, 
the  beautiful  Catholic  cathedral.  Passing  some  beg- 
gars we  mounted  the  long  flight  of  stairs  and  stood 
at  the  entrance  a  moment.  Within  I  noticed  that 
my  friend  passed  the  holy  water,  nor  did  he  per- 
form the  usual  ceremony  peculiar  to  every  devout 
Catholic.  It  was  later  that  we  fell  to  discussing 
Masonry  and  the  ancient  wisdom  in  its  new  forms. 

At  length  my  friend  invited  me  to  his  home  at 
St.  Denis,  and  to  partake  of  a  meal  and  meet  his 
aged  mother  and  a  brother.  I  reluctantly  accepted 
not  wishing  to  intrude,  but  he  insisted  and  argued 
that  he  wanted  to  entertain  an  American  soldier. 
We  walked  down  the  Boulevard  des  Capucnes  and 
later  disappeared  into  the  ground  at  la  Opera  pre- 
paratory to  taking  the  Metro. 

A  half  hour  later  we  mounted  the  stairs  of  a 
fashionable  French  apartment  house  in  St.  Denis. 


82  THRU  THE  FIRES  OF  FRANCE 

The  mother  answered  a  bell  and  was  pleasantly  sur- 
prised to  meet  an  American  soldier.  A  brother 
came  forward  and  our  circle  was  complete.  The 
apartments  were  small  but  well  appointed  and 
seemed  real  cozy. 

We  sat  before  the  table,  a  bit  later,  and  the 
mother  devotedly  served  her  two  fine  sons  and  my- 
self— she  would  not  tolerate  a  servant  was  ex- 
plained— and  we  were  served  in  several  courses. 
An  empty  plate,  knife,  fork  and  spoons,  a  half -loaf 
bread,  glass  tumbler  and  napkin  met  my  eyes.  Yes, 
wine  was  to  be  served ;  wine,  the  beverage  consumed 
by  the  high  and  low  alike. 

The  little  mother  brot  from  a  small  kitchenette 
an  omelet  with  onions.  She  retired  and  we  began, 
without  grace,  in  honor  of  a  vigorous  appetite. 
The  egg  and  onion  and  French  bread  were  keenly 
appreciated — any  soldier  will  tell  you  so. 

Next  we  were  served  a  thick  beefsteak.  Army 
rations  had  served  to  create  a  carniverous  appetite 
and  so  I  ate  the  steak  and  made  short  order  of  the 
bread.  My  friend  poured  wine.  One  glass,  another 
glass;  not  more  for  the  product  was  rare,  it  was 
explained,  and  extra  fine  and  should  not  be  gulped 
down  but  lightly  sipped  and  lingered  over.  The 
steak  finished  we  were  served,  again,  by  the  untir- 
ing faithful  mother-servant,  cheese  and  more 
bread.  This  concluded  the  meal,  and  my  appetite 
was  fully  appeased. 

The  time  was  slipping  and  I  prepared  to  depart 
for  the  Fort.  The  small  double-decked  Stains  car 
stopped  its  service  at  seven  and  I  faced  a  good 


A   PARISIAN  83 

walk  home.  The  boys  offered  to  walk  with  me  and 
so,  after  saying  farewell  and  offering  many,  many 
thanks  and  merci  to  the  fair  old  lady,  we  departed 
and  swung  along  the  boulevards  of  St.  Denis,  pass- 
ing into  the  country  road  and  later  reaching  Stains. 

Our  conversation  was  varied  and  I  came  to  un- 
derstand many  things  of  the  French  people.  We 
parted  in  regular  French  fashion,  kisses  omitted, 
and  I  regained  my  lodging  all  tired  and  a  bit 
weary.  I  was  thankful,  however,  for  having  seen 
Paris  under  such  splendid  conditions  and  of  gain- 
ing the  acquaintance  of  a  Parisian. 


CHAPTER  23 
Paris — the  Pageant  City 

The  following  Sunday  I  visited  Paris  again. 
This  time  I  held  a  genuine  piece  of  paper,  some- 
times called  a  pass,  which  was  okayed  by  a  white- 
haired  sergeant  down  at  the  army  headquarters, 
Rue  St.  Anne  near  the  Louvre.  Many  spies  and 
A.  W.  O.  L.'s  (absent  without  leave)  paraded  the 
streets  of  the  big  city ;  for  this  reason  every  citizen 
and  lawful  visitor  was  required  to  carry  his 
credentials.  All  day  long  I  passed  the  M.  P.  with 
my  chin  in  the  air. 

My  business  having  been  transacted  at  St.  Anne 
Headquarters  I  stood  upon  the  street  curb  debat- 
ing what  I  should  do  next.  I  hailed  a  taxi  and 
shouted  to  a  red-nosed  driver,  "Notre  Dame."  "We 
went  sailing  along  the  boulevards  passing  hun- 
dreds of  taxies  coming,  going,  crossing  and  dodg- 
ing people  and  carts  alike. 

Notre  Dame  stands  upon  the  banks  of  the  River 
Seine.  I  refer  you  to  ''The  Hunchback  of  Notre 
Dame" — by  Victor  Hugo  for  description.  I  fain 
would  attempt  to  depict  the  physical  features  of 
this  huge  ancient  structure.  When  I  came  upon 
the  scene  the  war  was  at  its  height.  And  so  for 
protection  the  authorities  had  sandbagged  the 
priceless  statuary  about  the  cathedral. 

Big  Bertha,  the  German  monster  74  miles  away, 
had  her  eyes  on  this  sacred  edifice.  As  far  as  I  am 
aware  the  historic  structure  has  escaped  unscathed. 


PARIS— THE  PAGEANT  CITY  85 

I  entered  the  sub-door  and  stood  upon  the  ce- 
ment floor  amid  ancient  memories.  It  was  Sun- 
day and  services  were  in  progress.  Music  filled 
the  great  halls  and  echoed  and  re-echoed  from  the 
lofty  ceilings.  I  knelt  a  moment  before  the  Allied 
flags  and  then  joined  in  the  curious  crowd  which 
promenaded  to  and  fro  about  the  outer  halls.  An 
arrangement  of  fences  held  the  congregation  within 
bounds  and  the  services  were  conducted  and  con- 
tinued much  the  same  as  a  performance  upon  a 
stage  with  the  walking  sight-seers  as  audience. 

Upwards  to  twenty  priests  sat  in  a  row  near  the 
choir.  One  elevated  seat  was  occupied  by  the  All 
High  or  someone  wearing  a  mitre  and  dress  of 
extra  color  and  design,  and  it  was  a  novel  sight  to 
watch  the  curious  peek  thru  the  pannels  at  the 
whole  show.  It  was  distasteful.  But  I  appreciated 
the  music  and  departed  later  somewhat  uplifted. 

Outside  I  hailed  another  taxi  and  this  time  we 
crost  the  Seine  and  stopt  at  the  Esplanade  des 
Invalides.  Napoleon's  tomb  was  also  sandbagged. 
In  a  large  adjacent  building  there  were  many  war 
relics;  German  artillery  of  all  caliber,  airplanes, 
tanks  and  other  war  accessories,  all  being  trophies 
of  the  Great  War. 

Guynemeyer's  faithful  Spad  was  on  exhibition. 
Not  the  plane  he  succumbed  in,  but  his  favorite 
machine  which  had  served  in  many  an  air- 
battle.  There  were  wreaths  thrown  over  the  pro- 
peller and  hanging  upon  the  wings.  Guynemeyer, 
the  first  Ace  of  Aces,  is  almost  worshiped  by  the 
French;  his  memory  will  live  forever.     In  all  the 


86  THRU  THE  FIRES  OF  FRANCE 

prominent  photograph  galleries  a  large-sized  like- 
ness of  this  Ace  was  displayed — a  mere  chap,  too. 

That  afternoon  I  sat  in  a  sidewalk  cafe  and  in- 
voluntarily began  counting  the  colors  and  combin- 
ations of  the  Allied  Nations'  soldiers  who  were  par- 
ading in  the  Sunday  afternoon  crowds.  There 
were,  red  pants  and  black  stripes,  black  pants  and 
red  stripes,  green  caps,  purple  caps,  red  caps  all 
done  up  in  gold  braid.  There  were  corset-fitting 
coats  and  loose  coats,  high  boots  and  low  boots, 
wide  belts  and  narrow  belts,  fancy  canes  and  silver 
spurs. 

There  was  the  characteristic  blue  of  the  French, 
greenish-gray  of  the  Italian,  brilliant  brown  of  the 
Belgium,  with  a  tassel  on  the  cap  for  ornament. 
Natives  of  French  Algeria  wore  their  red  fezes — 
the  Hindoo  a  turban.  English,  Australian,  Can- 
adian and  American  were  in  khaki. 

I  cannot  imagine  a  time  in  the  future  when  such 
a  gathering  of  military  peoples  and  color  and  cos- 
tume will  again  occur. 

Everyone  drank.  The  characteristic  sidewalk 
cafe  did  a  booming  business.  It  is  a  custom  of  the 
French  to  drop  in  on  a  sidewalk  cafe  and  be  served 
with  wine  or  liquor.  A  Frenchman  will  sit  for 
hours  over  a  glass  of  wine,  gazing  at  the  passers-by 
and  watching  the  ever  ending  procession  of  hum- 
ans. The  American  soldiers  joined  in  the  galaxy 
of  Paris  life  and  were  served  wine  in  quantity. 

Now  wherever  there  is  wine  served  you  will  find 
also  the  pretty  mademoiselle;  the  two  have  been 
inseparable  since  the  beginning  of  time.    An  Aus- 


PAEIS— THE  PAGEANT  CITY  87 

tralian  chap,  Taylor  by  name,  and  I  were  rudely 
made  aware  of  this  fact.  We  walked  down  the 
boulevard  mindful  of  our  own  business.  Two 
French  girls  intercept  our  passage — they  are  com- 
ing down  the  sidewalk.  We  make  a  graceful  de- 
tour but  are  not  allowed  to  escape.  They  throw 
themselves  upon  us.  We  are  abashed,  at  first,  then 
come  to  on  the  ' '  recoil. ' '  Wine  is  upon  their  breath 
and —  ^'vous  promenade?'^  No,  we  are  not  prepared 
to  promenade  and  explain  the  reason  in  broken 
Firench. 

At  the  street  corner  one  girl  dropt  a  slipper.  She 
hesitates,  she  attempts  to  replace  the  shoe  and,  not 
succeeding,  curses  a  nearby  cabman.  Her  dress  is 
high  and  her  temper  is  high  and  Taylor  and  I 
escape. 

They  were  young  and  gay  and  many  others  alike 
there  were  who  fell  upon  the  soldier.  Down  on 
Victoria  street  the  soldier  threw  away  beaucoup 
francs.  Once  in  camp  the  boys  would  search  their 
jeans  and  not  finding  their  hard-earned  money 
would  turn  to  the  pretty  mademoiselle  of  yester- 
day and  curse  the  vampire  of  today. 

The  military  authorities  have  done  every  thing 
possible  to  stamp  out  or  minimize  the  social  evil 
and  prophylactic  stations  are  established  every- 
where to  treat  the  unfortunate  ones  who  fall  by 
the  wayside. 

There  is  an  army  aphorism :  ' '  The  army  makes 
or  breaks  a  man."     In  France  where  wine  and 


88  THEU  THE  FIEE8  OF  PRANCE 

women  are  in  abundance  this  is  hideously  true  and 
one  can  quite  understand  the  fight  the  average 
man  must  make. 

The  first  ''baptism   of  fire"   was  back  at   the 
training  camp. 


CHAPTER  24 

Just  Girls 

The  first  weeks  at  Fort  de  Stains  found  several 
of  our  boys  well  established  in  different  family 
households  about  the  small  villages.  I  have  one 
member  of  our  Battery  in  mind,  especially.  A 
pretty  daughter  of  a  Perrifeitte  family  was  the 
object  of  our  friend's  attention.  The  match  was 
agreeable  to  the  parents  tho  the  daughter  was  not 
allowed  from  sight. 

Nearly  every  evening  you  could  find  our  two 
young  lovers  conversing  upon  the  front  porch.  No 
doubt  the  little  girl  had  visions  of  sailing  for 
America  apres  la  guerre — a  bride  and  happy.  But, 
alas!  this  did  not  come  to  pass. 

When  our  Battery  entrained  for  the  Front  many 
lonely  hearts  were  left  behind.  Two  pretty  maid- 
ens, especially,  I  have  in  mind  and  it  was  with 
great  reluctance  that  our  American  lovers  gave  me 
a  copy  of  the  two  following  letters: 

Paris,  October  1,  1918. 
Dear  Arthur, 

I  am  ennoyed,  there  is  a  long  time  I  have  not 
received  novels  of  you.  I  am  hoping,  however, 
you  are  always  in  good  health.  Would  you  have 
left  your  old  camp,  would  you  be  on  the  front  and 
could  you  not  write  me  as  often  as  you  want,  that 
will  be  possible,  and  in  this  case  I  forgive  you. 


90  THEU  THE  FIRES  OF  FRANCE 

But  if  you  are  a  lazy  boy,  I  shall  do  as  you,  and  I 
shall  not  write  at  all. 

My  friend  Alice  is  always  at  Rochefort-en-Yvel- 
ines,  but  she  must  be  back  next  week. 

In  this  moment  at  Paris  we  are  quiet,  we  have 
not  Gothas  or  Bertha.  I  am  hoping  that  will  be 
continue  yet  a  long  time. 

In  this  minute  we  have  a  very  fine  weather  but 
it  is  cold,  winter  is  approaching. 

I  often  think  to  the  last  afternoon  we  passed 
together  in  the  beautiful  park  of  Rochefort ;  I  shall 
want  to  be  here  yet,  but  I  am  hoping  I  shall  see 
you  in  a  few  time  at  Paris,  for  your  next  permis- 
sion. 

Have  you  received,  indeed,  novels  of  your  fam- 
ily? if  no  your  must  be  very  ennoyed. 

Now  I  am  going  to  leave  you,  for  I  am  going 
to  take  a  walk. 

I  tenderly  kiss  you, 

Jane. 
P.  S.     Be  quick  to  answer  me. 

Extracts  from  others. 

(a)  My  letter  will  be  not  long  today,  I  am 
tired,  I  have  not  sleep  since  two  nights ;  last  night 
we  had  a  terrible  storm  on  Paris,  and  the  night 
before  yesterday  the  visit  of  German  avion  who 
threw  shells  very  near  our  house. 

(b)  P.  S.  Be  indulgent,  for,  I  do  not  know  if 
you  always  understand  the  signification  of  my 
phrases. 


JUST  GIRLS  91 

(c)     This   morning  a   German   avion   came  on 
Paris,  but  he  has  been  pursued ;  I  was  all  the  same 
a  little  afraid- 
Paris  the  5th  of  November,  1918. 
My  dear  Clarence: 

Today  I  have  receive  your  little  letter  it  has 
make  me  very  pleasure.  Sometimes  I  have  think 
to  you  and  asked  if  perhaps  you  are  always  in  good 
health  as  I  know  that  you  were  start  at  front  in- 
deed I  have  no  receive  this  morning  is  date  of  the 
15  the  October.  I  congratulate  your  Battery  whom 
has  cost  down  two  Germans  aeroplanes  and  I  think 
that  your  victory  does  not  stop  there  now  the 
Germans  are  conquered  and  we  must  the  victory 
at  your  dear  Americans  came  from  so  far  for  safe- 
guard our  f rench  ground.  I  have  no  see  your  friend 
Joseph  and  he  has  no  write  to  me.  How  make  it 
that  he  is  no  at  front  say  me  when  you  think  come 
in  leave,  above  all  when  you  write  come  at  Paris 
forgot  no  seeing  me. 

My  mother  brother  and  my  friend  Madame 
Cadou  adjoins  to  me  for  sent  you  their  best  friend- 
ship. 

Your  little  friend  who  think  to  you, 

Georgette. 

P.  S.  Write  me  quickly  a  long  letter  for  say 
me  if  I  shall  see  you  soon. 


CHAPTER  25 

St.  Denis  of  Old 

St.  Denis  was  put  on  the  local  pass-list  two  weeks 
after  our  arrival  at  Fort  de  Stains.  Colonel  Col- 
lins, commanding  officer  of  the  Fort,  was  willing 
to  expand  the  limits  to  accomodate  the  boys.  He 
wanted  to  give  them  every  opportunity,  both  for 
pleasure  and  education. 

Now  there  happened  to  be  objectionable  pleas- 
ures about  the  town  of  St.  Denis.  There  was  wine ; 
there  were  lewd  women.  So  Col.  Collins  one  eve- 
ning mounted  the  stump  and  gave  the  entire  en- 
listed personnel  under  his  command  (600  men)  an 
impromptu  speech  about  conditions,  after  which 
he  appealed  to  the  better  natures  of  the  men.  Told 
them  they  represented  Free  America;  that  they 
must  uphold  the  sacred  traditions  of  the  country 
and  present  a  clean  manly  appearance  to  the  com- 
munity ;  that  they  should  wear  their  uniforms  with 
pride  and  honor. 

The  boys  responded  splendidly  and  the  Colonel 
finished  his  timely  heart  to  heart  talk  by  saying, 
"When  the  war  is  over  and  we  sail  home  victor- 
iously let  us  return  to  mothers,  fathers,  wives  and 
sweethearts  clean — and  better  men.  You  stand 
dismissed.'^  The  boys  fairly  sang  out  in  deep  reso- 
lution as  each  and  every  one  raised  the  right  hand 
in  affirmation. 

So  to  St.  Denis  the  boys  went.    It 's  an  old  city 


ST.  DENIS  OF  OLD  93 

— very  old.  The  public  buildings  are  all  sadly 
in  need  of  repair.  The  streets  are  narrow  and 
crooked  and  filthy.  There  is  always  a  peculiar 
odor  present,  a  combination  of  low  hanging  smoke 
from  the  numerous  factories,  the  manure  upon  the 
streets,  the  sour  liquors  from  the  numerous  saloons, 
the  mixed  garbage  upon  the  sidewalks  and,  worst 
of  all,  the  public  street  latrines.  The  whole  of  this 
makes  an  unaccustomed  visitor  nauseated. 

The  various  restaurants  did  a  good  soldier  busi- 
ness. The  French  are  artists  of  the  cuisine  but  are 
O!  so  slow.  We  sat  and  sat  impatiently  for  our 
meals  and  then  when  we  ordered  a  new  obstacle 
presented  itself — we  could  not  interpret  the  menu. 
So  we  would  revert  to  the  ancient  means  of  com- 
munication and  make  our  wants  known  in  hand, 
arm  and  shoulder  signs,  combined,  like  the  French. 
Then,  if  not  successful,  we  ordered  des  oeufs, 
pome-de-terre  and  cafe  (eggs-potatoes-coffee)  which 
we  found  in  our  French-American  dictionaries. 
Most  of  the  boys  ordered  des  oeufs — to  pronounce 
just  grunt.    1  heard  many  grunts. 

Luckily,  or  otherwise,  there  happened  to  be  an 
English  cafe  in  town  near  the  City  Hall  and 
across  the  street  from  the  famous  Notre  Dame 
of  St.  Denis.  But  prices  were  high  and  our  visits 
rare.  After  pay-day  you  could  count  many  cus- 
tomers in  American  uniform  from  our  Fort  par- 
taking of  meat  and  wine  in  quantity  at  this  cafe 
and  our  good  Englishman  and  wife  were  careful 
to  offer  their  best. 

Upstairs  was  a  large  parlor  with  piano  and  easy 


94  THEU  THE  TIRES  OF  FRANCE 

seats.  On  one  occasion,  with  a  violin  under  arm 
which  I  had  purchased  the  same  day,  I  came  to 
dine.  The  Englishman,  who  had  a  good  eye  for 
business,  pounced  upon  me  and  before  I  knew  it 
1  was  "  sawing ''  away  on  my  fiddle  while  his  wife 
"tickled  the  ivories.''  Steller  sang  on  this  occa- 
son. 

Sergeant  Miller  was  there  and  Cook  and  ' '  Calam- 
ity" Donley  and  others  of  our  Battery.  Some  one 
had  treated  for  upon  the  long  center  table  were 
many  ''empties"  and  several  yet  to  drain.  Then 
also  I  saw  a  long  fancy  box  of  Melachrinos  open 
and  half  gone.  Amid  the  smoke  and  music  and 
under  the  influence  of  wine  the  audience — for  there 
were  others  from  the  Fort  present — reclined  in 
the  easy  chairs  and,  with  legs  crost  and  gaze 
to  the  ceiling,  would  rattle  their  francs  and  rest 
in  perfect  bliss  and  contentment  unmindful  of  war 
and  strife.  Later  the  meal  claimed  many  precious 
francs  and  the  boys  would  return  to  camp  with 
visions  of  another  spread  the  following  pay-day. 

Across  the  street  is  the  St.  Denis  cathedral 
wherein  lie  the  remains  of  the  French  royal  fam- 
ily. Coronations,  marriages  and  momentous  state 
events  have  been  performed  beneath  the  lofty 
arched  canopy  of  the  cathedral.  In  hidden  laby- 
rinths re^^  the  priestly  paraphernalia  and  in  the 
archieves  are  parchments,  rare  and  sacred. 

A  party  of  several  soldiers  was  conducted  thru 
the  ancient  structure  and  I  enjoyed  the  visit  per- 
haps more  than  on  the  occasion  of  my  visit  to 
Notre  Dame,  Paris.     It  was  under  different  cir- 


ST.  DENIS  OF  OLD  95 

cumstances  and  we  reverently  held  our  otherwise 
noisy  inquisitive  ejaculations  in  reserve. 

On  another  occasion  in  St.  Denis  I  met  with 
our  gang  and  we  traveled  en  masse.  Up  Cat  Alley 
we  went  cheering  and  stepping  about.  Some 
Frenchmen  were  celebrating  the  Chateau-Thierry 
victory  and  proceeded  to  make  us  their  object  of 
reverence. 

''Curly"  Best  was  loud  and  lively  and  held  con- 
verse with  the  women  who  happened  to  be  at  the 
open  windows.  Mathews,  in  a  sudden  outburst  of 
enthusiasm,  sprang  upon  a  window  and  went  up 
and  up,  hand  over  hand  on  an  adjacent  waterpipe. 
On  a  second  story  window  he  paused  to  '^parlez 
voiis  Francais"  with  a  French  girl.  Up  and  down 
the  alley  the  townspeople  were  attracted  and  the 
crowd  gathered.  ''Matty"  remained  suspended  as 
if  in  mid-air  and  the  sight  was  a  novel  one — a 
regular  Romeo-Juliet  done  up  in  Cat  Alley.  The 
whole  affair  was  done  in  jest  and  soon  Mathews  re- 
joined the  crowd  and  the  gang  stepped  forward. 

An  old  man  put  out  a  hand.  I  offered  mine. 
He  kissed  it.  The  French  were  wild  over  the 
Americans  then.  I  hope  there  is  still  some  sem- 
blance of  friendship  lingering  within  the  hearts  of 
the  peoples  at  large  in  spite  of  the  many,  many 
clashes,  unfair  dealing  and  foul  play  which  threat- 
en those  concerned.  Of  course  the  Great  Abstract 
National  Friendship,  which  the  French  naturally 
must  hold,  will  never  die.  Likewise  with  the 
American.  However  a  combination  of  events  have 
unfortunately  made  a  majority  of  the  lads  bitter 
towards  the  French. 


96  THRU  THE  FIRES  OF  FRANCE 

Few  men  will  return  home  with  their  earnings, 
for  the  French  have  "cleaned  us  out."  Crafty 
grogshop  keepers,  especially,  have  profited.  Then 
the  women,  the  storekeepers  and  the  rest,  all  after 
the  mighty  franc,  plied  their  trade  ruthlessly. 
Yes,  the  French  early  found  our  weakness;  our 
inability  to  save ;  our  ready  careless  spending. 

On  the  other  hand  many  misunderstandings  have 
arisen  between  the  French  and  the  American 
soldiers.  "Dam  Frog"  you  hear  on  all  sides.  The 
French  soldier  is  known  universally  as  a  "Frog." 
Beautiful  tributes  in  journals  and  books  speak  of 
the  Poilu  but,  dear  reader,  bear  with  me  for  I  tell 
the  truth,  I  w^ould  not  profit  otherwise,  to  the  rank 
and  file  they  were  just  "Frogs." 

I  have  never  heard  the  more  fitting  name  in  the 
ranks,  only  from  YMCA  platforms  and  thru  the 
lips  of  our  chaplains. 

Human  nature  is  much  the  same  the  world  over 
and  I  suppose  if  the  French  had  come  to  America 
our  peoples  would  have  played  upon  their  pocket- 
books  and  our  questionable  women  chain  them 
down  with  the  wages  of  sin  in  much  the  same 
manner. 

Sunday  morning  is  a  busy  day  in  the  public 
markets  at  St.  Denis.  You  can  purchase  anything; 
things  to  eat,  things  to  wear,  jewelry,  knick-knack 
and  what-not. 

Over  at  a  butcher's  stall  there  are  rabbits  and 
chickens,  filled  with  the  breath  of  life.  You  pet 
a  rabbit  gently  then  order  it  slaughtered.  The 
butcher  takes  the  timid,  harmless  animal  by  the 


ST.  DENIS  OF  OLD  97 

hind  legs  and  then,  while  you  watch  the  perform- 
ance, gives  the  poor  dumb  animal  a  vigorous  swing, 
like  crack-the-whip,  and  snaps  its  neck.  He  then 
hangs  the  quivering  carcass  upon  a  couple  of  pegs 
and  proceeds  to  rip,  cut  and  splatter  blood.  The 
dead  flesh  is  soon  prepared  for  delivery  and  our 
customer  goes  about  his  shopping  as  unconcerned 
as  a  Golden  Oriole  singing  a  morning  song  from 
the  top  of  a  fruit-laden  tree. 

At  the  next  counter  you  purchase  fruit  or  dairy 
products.  Then  further  down  the  crowded  aisle 
are  shoes  for  sale — leather  and  wooden.  Cheap  lace, 
perfume,  scented  soap,  flowers  for  your  grave  at 
the  cemetery  and  your  fortune  told;  the  whole  of 
it  making  an  interesting  sight. 

There  are  thousands  upon  thousands  of  street 
vendors  in  St.  Denis  and  Paris.  They  sell  every- 
thing— even  small  bundles  of  wood  for  the  fire- 
place at  twenty  centimes  per  bundle.  These  hand 
carts  line  the  curbs  for  blocks  and  interfere  with 
the  traffic  upon  the  already  narrow  streets. 

From  La  Bourge  into  Paris  there  is  an  exception- 
ally broad  avenue.  Upon  this  boulevard  there  can 
be  found,  on  Sunday  morning  especially,  the  great- 
est conglomerate  mass  of  goods  and  humans  that 
one  can  imagine.  Under  awnings  and  upon  the 
sidewalks  you  would  think  the  world's  business 
was  being  conducted. 


CHAPTER  26 

Eight  Hundred,  B.  C. 

The  small  village  of  Stains  is  near  the  Fort.  The 
church  m  this  town  is  very  old,  built  about  eight 
hundred,  B.  C.  Every  French  village,  however 
small,  is  graced  by  at  least  one  Catholic  church. 

Now  just  across  the  street  from  the  Stains' 
church  is  the  public  latrine.  Customers  using  it 
are  hidden  from  public  gaze  from  about  the  waist 
line  to  the  knees.  In  Stains  the  street-sweepers 
are  negligent  and  the  manure  is  allowed  to  accum- 
ulate in  the  streets;  garbage  is  thrown  carelessly 
about  by  hungry  dogs  and  willful  children;  then 
the  rain  falls  making  the  whole  scene  unsightly 
and  '^smelly.*' 

To  enter  the  town  you  must  take  the  cobble- 
stone road.  There  are  sidewalks  here  and  there, 
all  very  narrow  and  irregular,  so  the  average  pedes- 
trian trails  down  the  middle  of  the  street.  There 
is  a  turn  here  and  a  crook  there,  then  a  corner  pro- 
jects rudely  into  the  street  making  a  very  narrow 
passage.  If  you  pass  you  find  a  large  square  just 
beyond  and  then  almost  circling  back  upon  itself 
is  another  branch  of  the  same  street  you  started 
on.  Thru  hallways,  arches,  corridors,  passages  one 
is  required  to  pass  and  if  you  are  not  careful  you 
will  unconsciously  walk  into  the  private  yard  of 
your  neighbor. 

The  French  are  erratic  builders.    The  geography 


EIGHT  HUNDEED,  B.  C. 

of  all  the  French  towns  is  always  a  puzzle  and 
their  houses  are  impossible.  One  would  imagine 
that  a  cyclone  had  recently  passed  leaving  the  once 
orderly  and  well  placed  houses  a  jumbled  mass. 
You  never  know  just  where  the  entrance  is ;  wheth- 
er it  leads  into  a  barn,  an  open  lot  or  into  the 
neighboring  street. 

One  store  will  dispense  goods  in  the  front  half; 
another  in  the  rear.  Often  I  have  bolted  right  into 
a  peaceful  family  gathering  at  meal  time.  The 
proprietor  waves  his  family  aside,  usually,  and 
comes  to  serve  you  and  sometimes  you  will  notice 
a  chicken  strutting  about  the  kitchen  hard  by. 
There  is  a  barn-yard  odor,  too,  but  you  buy  and 
then  leave,  thankful  for  having  gained  the  free 
air  once  more. 

Now  every  French  village  is  alike — all  crooked 
and  dilapidated  and  odoriferously  foul,  with  a 
single  church  tower  well  in  evidence.  Paris  and 
the  large  cities  are  modern  in  their  stores,  business 
and  administration  and  I  would  not  have  the 
reader  be  confused  in  my  remarks. 

The  people  of  the  country  are  the  direct  anti- 
theses of  the  Parisians.  In  Paris  you  find  the 
world's  fashions;  in  the  country,  no  fashions  at 
all.  The  women  are  apparently  very  careless  and 
in  the  morning,  before  they  dress  to  go  out,  they 
are  sloven  and  unkempt. 

I  have  in  mind  the  village  of  Ecruves,  near  Toul. 
Here  you  see  village  life  at  its  worst.  There  is  a 
common  pump  and  trough  where  the  villagers  come 
to  do  their  laundry  or  draw  water  for  household 


100  THRU  THE  FIRES  OF  FRANCE 

purposes ;  where  horses  come  to  drink  and  children 
splash  and  play. 

One  day  I  observed  an  unusual  gathering  at  this 
village  trough.  Five  women  were  doing  their 
laundry ;  two  horses  came  to  drink ;  a  butcher,  hard 
by,  came  for  water  using  a  bucket  stained  with 
fresh  blood;  a  soldier,  who  had  been  shaving  near 
by,  came  to  wash  away  the  soap  and  hair  from  his 
shaving  outfit.  Without  interruption  the  five 
women  continued  to  laundry. 

The  women  were  poorly  yet  abundantly  dressed. 
One  lady  of  extra  weight  seemed  to  be  boss  of  the 
gang.  She  always  stood  nearby  or  was  blocking 
the  middle  of  the  street.  Her  shoes  were  wooden 
and  her  head  may  have  been  of  the  same  material, 
or  empty  for  it  made  considerable  noise.  A  string 
from  button-hole  to  button  supported  her  dress 
and  I  fain  would  look  when  she  stooped,  which  she 
never  did.  Her  nose  was  red,  her  cheeks  flabby 
and  an  ugly  tooth  hung  suspended  from  an  other- 
wise toothless  mouth. 

Her  children — I  take  it  that  they  were  as  she 
ordered  them  about — answered  the  call  of  nature 
in  the  public  street  just  as  unconcerned  as  you 
please.  Nearby  at  a  triangular  corner  there  was  a 
manure  pile  and  the  street  seemed  not  to  have  been 
swept  since  the  days  of  Noah,  or  thereabouts. 


CHAPTER  27 
Final  Preparations 

At  last  the  day  came.  The  ordei?'  ^o^^prdiieed  te. 
the  Front  was  soon  relayed  tlxrii  fJnt  ^:b;qio  E^at-; 
talion — to  the  Front.  A  certain  "j6y'  {imitated  iK^e 
ranks  and  we  were  glad  to  be  on  our  way.  Had 
not  we  been  in  training  for  more  than  a  year? 
And  did  not  we  dream  and  dream  day  after  day  of 
the  final  move  which  would  put  us  into  the  fight- 
ing line? 

The  boys  set  their  jaws,  held  a  firm  lip  and 
looked  resolutely  into  the  future.  I  did  not  notice 
one  iota  of  unmanly  cowardice  among  them,  rather 
the  boys  were  true  to  their  calling,  they  were 
Uncle  Sam^s  soldiers. 

Our  nine  weeks  final  training  under  the  mas- 
terly guidance  of  Lieut.  Emerick  had  done  won- 
ders for  us.  Battery  B  was  his  pride  and  when  at 
last  it  became  certain  that  the  Lieutenant  would 
not  accompany  the  Battery  to  the  Front  he  was 
heart-broken.  It  was  on  Saturday  that  he  gave  us 
a  final  inspection.  This  man  faced  each  soldier 
in  the  ranks,  while  inspecting,  and  sought  our  eyes. 
He  gazed  into  our  souls ;  he  asked  that  we  look  him 
squarely  in  the  eye.  What  had  we  to  be  ashamed 
of?  And  were  we  not  men?  So  we  met  his  gaze 
— a  serene  and  steadfast  gaze — and  it  was  refresh- 
ing. 

Immediately  after  inspection  Lieut.  Emerick 
asked  that  we  gather  together  in  the  barracks  so 


102  THRU  THE  FIRES  OF  FRANCE 

that  he  might  deliver  a  few  farewell  remarks.  We 
gathered;  he  stood  before  us.  There  was  a  pro- 
found silence  and  we  noticed  that  the  Lieutenant 
was  gazing  at  the  floor  and  lightly  tapping  his 

^  ji  pencil  <jn  fj;  nearby  bunk.  A  tear  stole  into  his  eye ; 
^hg.  ma4.Q  an  effort  to  speak  but  could  not.     His 

•M  'Stie^JLiit  wa^fuil  and  he  wanted  to  give  us  all,  he 
wanted  to  share  with  us  his  innermost  thots.  We 
gulped,  we  breathed  lightly  and  then,  in  the  midst 
of  overpowering  emotions,  our  beloved  Lieutenant, 
unable  to  hold  out  longer,  made  his  way  thru  the 
throng  without  uttering  a  word. 

Later  we  learned  that  he  had  thrown  himself 
upon  his  bunk  and  had  wept  till  his  heart  was 
fairly  shattered.  Yes,  reader,  he  was  a  soldier; 
he  would  have  gone  into  the  jaws  of  death  if  needs 
be  for  us  and  his  country.  This  he  would  have 
done  and  because  he  possessed  the  finer  qualities 
of  manhood  he  would  have  sacrificed  all  without 
thot  of  self. 

Corporal  Blanky,  who,  among  other  things,  was 
a  poet,  composed  the  following  ode,  a  lyric  song 
that  played  upon  the  heart-strings  of  every  man, 
rough  and  ready  tho  he  may  have  been : 

The  boys  of  Battery  B  are  sad 

Because  they  've  lost  a  friend ; 
One  who  knows  the  part  a  man  must  play 

And  plays  it  to  the  end. 
Lieutenant  Emerick  is  his  name, 

A  name  we  proudly  scan; 
The  reason  we're  so  proud  of  him 

Is  because — he  is  a  man. 


FINAL  PKEPAEATION  103 

But  some  day  he'll  return  to  us 

To  lead  us  in  the  fray, 
And  our  best  wishes  go  with  him 

In  remembrance  while  he's  away. 
Tho  we  do  our  best, 

We  cannot  give  one-half  the  credit  due; 
We  can  only  say  in  our  poor  way, 

The  Battery's  proud  of  YOU. 

Lieutenant  Clair  A.  P.  Duffie  (later  Captain) 
was  assigned  to  our  Battery  as  commander.  We 
were  sorry  to  loose  our  friend,  but  were  willing  to 
pull  together  with  our  new  leader  whom  we  soon 
found  to  be  one  with  us.  He  was  rough  and  ready, 
had  seen  service  at  the  Front  and  was  altogether 
worth  trusting.  Lieut.  Emerick  was  a  teacher  as 
well  as  a  leader  of  men  and,  with  an  excellent 
bearing,  could  emphasize  his  remarks  with  decided 
firmness.  Lieut.  Duffte  had  his  ideas  of  the  game 
well  enough,  but  he  found  it  necessary  to  revert 
to  slang  and  not  altogether  fitting  expressions. 
However  many  of  our  boys  felt  at  home  under  the 
new  "management"  and  settled  down  to  happy 
thots  of  "gettin'  by." 

On  September  4th  we  departed  from  our  old 
stamping  grounds.  As  we  paraded  out  thru  the 
100  foot  tunnel  we  felt  a  new  emotion  and 
realized  that  we  were  on  the  last  lap  of  our  jour- 
ney. 

We  carried  the  full  pack  with  one  new  addition : 
the  gas  mask.  Each  individual  had  been  issued  a 
mask  and  we  had  spent  many  hours  in  gas  drill. 


104  THBU  THE  FIRES  OF  FRANCE 

Our  lusty  army  Springfield  was  well  oiled  and 
ready  for  business.  Hob-nailed  clumsy  shoes  re- 
placed the  familiar  russet  and  we  now  wore  the 
overseas  service  cap,  otherwise  our  costume  was 
the  same  as  when  we  left  the  states. 

The  Battalion  marched  out  thru  the  indented 
road,  past  the  vin  rouge  shop  and  then,  after  skirt- 
ing the  small  city  of  Stains,  finally  reached  the 
railroad  station  of  Perrifeitte.  Our  backs  were 
sorely  exercised  on  this  occasion  and  we  were  happy 
when  the  march  was  over.  French  people  cheered 
us  on  our  way  and  children  ran  beside  our  ad- 
vancing columns  begging  for  souvenirs  and  choco- 
late. 

The  Perrifeitte  station  was  crowded  with  re- 
turning commuters  from  Paris  for  it  was  now 
the  end  of  a  working  day,  and  as  we  stood  at  rest 
nearby  awaiting  further  orders  our  thots  wandered 
home  across  the  Atlantic. 

The  sun  remained  upon  the  horizon  a  moment 
and  then  disappeared.  Darkness  quickly  settled 
upon  the  village  and  we  saw  the  home-like  gleam- 
ing of  a  hundred  lamps.  It  seemed  that  home  was 
near.  We  could  almost  reach  out  and  touch  our 
loved  ones  who  were  patiently  waiting  in  dear 
old  California. 

"O!  mate,  0!  friend  won't  you  come  and  whis- 
per to  me?  Won't  you  give  me  a  word  of  cour- 
age?    Won't  you  help  curb  this  home-sickness?" 

It  was  the  some-like  spirit  of  the  returning 
workers  that  started  these  thots,  perhaps,  or  was 
it  the  suspense  prior  to  arriving  on  the  Front,  or 


FINAL  PREPAEATION  105 

both?  The  mingled  emotions  of  many  men  shone 
upon  their  countenances  which  were  accentuated  in 
the  purple  rays  of  a  dying  sun.  In  the  twilight 
of  the  fleeting  day  our  men  came  to  know  them- 
selves as  never  before. 

The  villagers  stood  about  in  groups.  Perhaps 
the  instinct  of  self-preservation  prompted  them  to 
cling  to  each  other.  The  war-like  spirit  was  in  the 
air.  Hundreds  of  khaki-clad  youths,  armed  to  the 
teeth,  greeted  their  wondering  gaze  at  every  turn. 
Thundering  motor-cars  carrying  provisions  and 
supplies  came  and  went.  Officers  were  shouting 
orders  to  their  men.  Soon  we  would  be  gone,  these 
hundreds  of  men  and  dozens  of  gasoline  monsters. 
Soon  there  would  return  a  quiet  village  atmosphere 
and  beside  every  fireplace  our  French  brethren 
would  converse  in  future  terms  of  American  brav- 
ery and  American  victory.  This  we  could  see  in 
the  quivering  voices  of  men  and  women  as  they 
attempted  to  cheer  us  and  encourage  us  in  the 
task  of  a  near  future. 

A  touch  of  agony  flitted  across  the  brow  of  a 
widow,  nearby,  as  she  stood  with  her  hands  clasped 
upon  her  breast.  Would  these  men  of  America 
face  the  Hun  and  drive  him  back  in  defeat  and 
disorder  that  this  widow  might  be  avenged  ?  Would 
that  she  could  see  the  hand-writing  on  the  wall  and 
know  that  her  husband  had  not  died  in  vain. 

Darkness  crept  over  the  land.  A  bugle  call  re- 
sounded thru  the  evening  shadows  and  quickly 
the  men  came  to  attention.  Orders  came  to  entrain 
immediately.  The  long  freight  train  in  the  yards 
received  its  human  baggage. 


106  THRU  THE  FIRES  OF  FRANCE 

This  was  our  first  experience  in  freight-cars. 
Upon  the  dors  of  these  box-cars  was  stenciled  the 
following:  40  Hommes — 8  Chevaux.  ''Sidedoor 
Pullmans/'  the  boys  quickly  nicknamed  the  cars. 
Thirty-four  men  were  packed  into  a  very  small 
space  which  had  recently  been  evacuated  by  eight 
horses.    This  we  knew  by  the  evidence  left  behind. 

Sergeant  Daniels  ordered  the  car  swept  and 
cleaned  in  the  best  manner  possible.  This  done 
our  packs  were  arranged  upon  the  floor  for  beds, 
and  the  provisions  of  hardtack  and  corned-beef 
were  stacked  in  one  end  of  the  car. 

French  box-cars  are  small ;  about  twenty  feet  in 
length  and  half  the  size  of  our  modern  cars.  With- 
in this  small  space  "Pop"  Daniels  placed  his  men 
and  that  night  our  sleep  was  interrupted  repeated- 
ly by  careless  sleepers,  especially  ''Curly"  Best 
who  stretched  out  his  long  legs  and  snored  with 
extra  vigor.  Once  settled  the  men  could  not  move 
for  every  inch  of  space  was  occupied. 

My  position  was  an  extremely  awkward  one;  my 
helmet  gouged  my  back  and  "Mother"  Pelbrough 
insisted  on  placing  his  feet  in  my  face.  Few  winks 
did  I  steal  that  night  and  as  the  train  rolled  along 
at  a  snail's  pace  I  had  many  hours  of  wakefulness. 

It  was  during  the  night  hours  such  as  these  that 
the  Dear  One  in  America  occupied  my  mind.  That 
night  I  thot  long  and  hard  of  the  Patient  One  at 
home  and  my  heart  fairly  ached  at  times  in  home- 
sickness. And  yet  we  were  bound  for  the  Front. 
We  were  on  an  errand  that  required  strength  and 
cheerfulness  and  fortitude. 


CHAPTER  28 
We  Crawl  Up  To  The  Front 

Our  troop  train  departed  from  Perrifeitte  on 
September  4th  at  8  p.  m.  We  traveled  the  two 
following  days  thru  Coulommiers,  Vitry,  St.  Dizier, 
Poissons,  Sorey  and  arrived  at  Toul  on  the  after- 
noon of  the  6th,  a  distance  of  two  hundred  miles. 
At  Vitry  we  saw  the  first  evidence  of  the  battle- 
field. It  was  at  this  point,  on  the  River  Marne, 
that  the  Allies  drove  the  Hun  hordes  back  in  that 
historic  second  battle  of  the  IVLarne. 

Graves  were  scattered  here  and  there  and 
wrecked  buildings  in  the  village  nearby  were  silent 
proof  of  war  and  destruction.  Large  ten,  twelve 
and  sixteen-inch  cannon  of  the  railroad  type 
greeted  our  gaze  on  every  hand.  At  this  point 
there  were  numerous  \Mar-time  activities  in  troop 
and  food  transportation,  warehouses  under  con- 
struction as  well  as  important  aerial  and  balloon 
hangars;  all  of  which  dotted  the  landscape  pro- 
fusely. 

The  first  morning  aboard  the  freight  train  found 
us  up  early  and  stirring  about.  Helmets,  guns, 
bayonets  and  other  metallic  mattresses,  extra  feet, 
pushing  and  cursing  were  sufficient  reasons  to  make 
a  beauty  sleep  objectionable.  So  we  replaced  our 
shoes  and  stacked  our  packs  in  either  end  of  the 
car  leaving  the  center  space  free  for  walking  and 
general  exercise  of  mouth  and  limb. 


108  THEU  THE  FIRES  OF  FRANCE 

Breakfast  consisted  of  corned-beef  and  hard-tack 
which  was  taken  under  difficulties  as  the  quaint 
French  rolling  stock  went  bouncing  forward.  Two 
days  and  two  nights  were  quite  enough  to  prepare 
us  for  initiation  into  the  ''Ancient  Order  of  Hobo." 
At  the  end  of  our  journey  we  were  thoro-going 
bums.  Our  clothes  had  remained  upon  our  backs 
thruout  the  trip,  our  beards  were  shaggy,  our  hair 
unkempt,  in  fact  water  had  not  been  touched  by 
many  except  to  drink. 

After  passing  thru  many  miles  of  uninteresting 
territory  we  at  last  reached  the  railroad  terminus 
at  Toul.  Lieut.  Duffie  ordered  his  company  to  va- 
cate the  cars  which  we  did  without  regrets.  While 
waiting  for  further  orders  the  clouds  gathered, 
the  rain  came  and  then,  to  avoid  a  good  drenching, 
everyone  found  shelter  in  the  cars  we  had  so  lately 
deserted.  It  continued  to  rain,  tho  in  a  lesser  de- 
gree, thruout  the  afternoon.  In  this  rain  we  fin- 
ally assembled  and  then  marched  two  miles  to  our 
French  barracks  for  the  night. 

Thru  the  village  streets  we  swung,  passed  the 
city  gate,  mounted  an  ascending  roadway,  skirted 
several  large  rain  puddles  and  finally,  after  much 
labor  and  fatigue,  we  reached  our  quarters  where 
we  remained  one  night.  Everyone  prepared  a  bunk 
in  the  semi-darkness.  Owing  to  the  German  night- 
raiders,  who  had  recently  made  trouble  for  the 
residents  of  Toul,  all  lights  were  taboo. 

The  cooks  prepared  a  scant  supper  which  we 
ate  with  relish  because  it  was  hot  and  later  all 
turned  in  for  the  night,  tired  and  sleepy,  and  were 


WE  CRAWL  UP  TO  THE  FRONT  109 

soon  lost  to  the  material  world.  Next  morning 
the  sun  came  forth  in  all  its  splendor  which  was 
well  for  it  gave  us  an  opportunity  to  wash  a  few 
pieces  of  clothing.  Then  we  shaved  and  later  re- 
rolled  our  packs  making  ready  for  orders  to  pro- 
ceed on  our  journey. 

During  the  day  the  boys  were  informed  that  a 
final  troop  movement  would  probably  take  place 
soon  and  sure  enough  in  the  afternoon  word  was 
passed  that  trucks  would  be  on  hand  to  take  our 
Battalion  up  to  the  Front  that  very  evening.  The 
boys  were  elated.  They  sang.  I  can  now  see  the 
fellows  gathered  around  the  quartette  of  Ginn, 
Ingram,,  Fleck  and  Steiler  singing  to  their  heart's 
content. 

What  a  contrast  the  present  moment  was  to 
that  of  yesterday  when  the  boys  had  dragged  them- 
selves thru  the  rain  all  tired  and  wet  and  home- 
sick. Long  before  the  time  of  departure  everyone 
was  ready.  Packs  had  been  made  over  and  dispen- 
able  articles  were  discarded.  We  now  learned  to 
carry  only  essentials. 

At  four  supper  was  served  and  it  was  good 
''eats/'  considering.  A  detail  was  called  after- 
wards to  pack  up  the  stoves  and  cooking  utensils. 
Other  details  were  made  up  from  the  Battery  to 
handle  baggage,  supplies  and  to  police  the  barracks 
later.  This  was  done  thoroly  as  was  always  our 
Lieutenant's  wonted  custom  and  it  gained  for  us 
a  reputation  of  cleanliness.  No  matter  how  dis- 
orderly and  filthy  a  place  might  have  been  we  al- 
ways left  it  spick  and  span,  tho  the  boys  oft 
times  did  their  work  grudgingly,  I'll  admit. 


110  THRU  THE  FIRES  OF  FRANCE 

At  six  o'clock  the  trucks  arrived  manned  by 
Frenchmen.  It  was  the  Black  Cat  Squad,  I  be- 
lieve, for  on  each  motor-truck  was  painted  the 
emblem  of  the  quad,  that  of  a  black  cat  with  curved 
back  and  erect  tail  as  tho  a  dog  were  nearby  ready 
to  spring  into  action.  Twenty  men  were  assigned 
to  each  truck,  including  packs,  and  it  was  sardine- 
packed  affair,  to  say  the  least.  Our  goal  had,  up 
to  the  present,  been  a  mystery. 

Lieutenant  Duffie  called  the  sergeants  together 
and  whispered  the  word — Ansauville.  They,  in 
turn,  passed  the  coveted  word  along  the  ranks. 
We  were  given  the  location  in  the  event  of  our  be- 
ing scattered  by  shell-fire,  truck  accident  or  other- 
wise. 

At  dusk  we  crawled  out  of  the  five  acre  drill 
grounds  that  encircles  the  barracks,  pointed  our 
noses  in  a  northerly  direction  and  cautiously  yet 
with  dashing  thunder  rolled  thru  the  little  village 
of  Toul  and  later  were  winding  thru  the  slight  hills 
of  the  back  country.  Into  the  crucible  of  war  we 
were  going.  Every  turn  of  the  wheel  brot  us 
nearer.  The  boys  were  firm  and  brave  and  I  heard 
no  complaints. 

On  the  road  we  passed  marching  columns  of 
artillery.  The  rattle  of  chains  and  of  horses'  hoofs 
upon  the  highway,  intermingled  with  the  roaring 
engine  of  our  Quad  trucks  brot  a  strange  admix- 
ture of  emotions.  Not  a  light  was  allowed  in  the 
ranks,  such  as  the  striking  of  matches.  The  driv- 
ers flashed  their  headlights  occasionally  for  proper 
guidance  and  to  avoid  a  general  smash-up  at  a 


WE  CRAWL  UP  TO  THE  FRONT  111 

dangerous  curve.  But  they  were  cutious  and  later 
the  roads  were  camouflaged  in  the  exposed  heights 
which  was  some  measure  of  protection  from  enemy 
eyes. 

There  was  a  general  shouting  from  the  trailing 
cannoneers  and  horsemen  who  trudged  along  with 
their  artillery.  ' '  What  outfit  ? ' ' — comes  ringing  in 
my  ears  to  this  day.  We  were  cautioned  not  to 
impart  military  secrets,  especially  that  pertaining 
to  troop  movements.  In  reply  the  boys  answered 
''YMCA  emplacements,"  ''coifee  coolers,"  ''23rd 
Infantry"  and  all  sorts  of  nonsense. 

While  in  motion  we  clung  to  our  equipment  and 
rifle.  Our  cartridge  belts  were  loaded  to  over- 
flowing and  were  ready  for  any  emergency.  We 
knew  not  our  final  disposition,  whether  we  would 
be  called  upon  to  assist  our  brother  infantryman 
cr  settle  in  a  prepared  gun-pit ;  whether  we  would 
face  immediate  battle  or  engage  in  guard  duty  near 
the  front  lines.  All  this  was  mere  speculation 
and  our  own  judgment  was  our  only  authority. 
Long  since  had  we  learned  to  discount  all  rumors 
and  to  live  by  the  watch,  to  test  each  report  in 
the  laboratory  of  finer  senses — intuition.  Even 
Lieut.  Duffie  was  ignorant  of  his  future  movements 
beyond  Ansauville. 

At  11 :30  p.  m.  our  trucks  slipped  into  the  small 
village  street  and  stopped.  All  was  rigid  black- 
ness and  we  could  hear  much  activity  about  us 
tho  our  eyes  were  blinded.  The  surroundings  were 
strange,  the  people  were  strange  and  we  seemed 
strange  to  one  another.  Under  trying  emotions  and 


112  THRU  THE  FIRES  OF  FRANCE 

amid  a  myriad  of  visions  we  came  to  a  strange 
cross-road  in  life.  Were  we  dreaming?  Was  our 
position  on  the  Front  real?  And,  were  we  really 
on  the  Front? 

True  we  could  not  see  beyond  the  length  of  our 
arm  the  darkness  was  so  heavy,  but  we  could  fieai 
much.  For  instance  there  were  intermittent  peels 
of  thunder  yonder ;  illuminated  patches  in  the  night 
sky  appeared,  then  disappeared;  narrow  gauge 
railroading  was  very  near  at  hand;  trucks  were 
coming  and  going.     Was  it  a  dream? 

Our  Lieutenant  was  quick  to  find  a  location.  In 
a  huge  hayloft  we  crawled  that  night  and,  after 
very  little  preparation,  dug  in  and  went  to  sleep. 


CHAPTER  29 

Front  Line  Sport 

Next  morning  we  were  aroused  by  the  pangs  of 
hunger  and  awoke  to  a  hot  steaming  breakfast. 
Cook  Steger  and  staff  had,  early  that  morning,  set 
up  an  improvised  kitchen  and  already  rations  of 
food  were  ready  to  serve.  Crisp  bacon,  biscuits  and 
jelly,  rice  and  coffee  ''hit  the  spot.** 

Already  our  busy  news  agents  were  afield  gath- 
ering in  a  rich  harvest  of  facts  and  fancies.  Rear 
brot  back  some  real  head-liners.  Best,  Jester,  Gu- 
lick,  Crumrine  and  Chase  all  contributed  to  the 
central  information  and  gossip  bureau. 

Steel  helmets  and  gas-masks  were  our  best  friends 
now  and  the  boys  were  unduly  careful  with  these 
priceless  articles,  especially  the  gas-mask.  A  gag- 
shell  might  have  exploded  at  any  moment  for  Fritz 
was  just  over  the  way  ready  to  send  a  shell  into 
the  least  sign  of  activity. 

Our  Battery  was  now  separated  from  the  Bat- 
talion and  in  the  two  months  that  followed  on  the 
Front  we  worked  independently  of  companies  A, 
C,  D  and  Headquarters.  Bits  of  news  came  to  us 
during  the  two  months  but  we  knew  very  little 
of  each  other  in  an  intimate  way. 

The  small  village  of  Ansauville  was  in  ruins. 
Wicked  shells  from  German  guns  had  wrought 
death  and  destruction  many  months  before  our  ar- 
rival.   The  only  church  was  partially  in  ruins,  one 


114  THRU  THE  FIBES  OF  FEANCE 

shell  having  penetrated  and  destroyed  the  clock 
tower.  In  spite  of  the  wanton  destruction  several 
families  lived  on  in  their  miserable  surroundings. 
In  fact  the  very  premises  our  Lieutenant  decided 
to  occupy  was  still  in  possession  of  its  owner,  an 
old  gray-haired  lady. 

But  a  final  warning  from  General  Headquarters 
urged  all  citizens  to  retire  to  the  rear  immediately 
and  so  our  old  lady  prepared  to  leave.  She  was 
all  alone.  Where  her  husband  was  or  her  sons  and 
daughters,  no  one  knew.  All  we  could  see  was  a 
pathetic  figure  roaming  about  the  premises  looking 
blankly  at  the  strange  works  of  man. 

Our  kitchen  force  took  possession  of  the  old 
lady's  kitchen  and  transformed  the  old-fashioned 
fireplace  into  a  modern  field-range.  Then  the  rab- 
bit pens  and  chicken  coops  were  removed  from  the 
adjoining  room  together  with  a  debris  of  long 
standing  and  of  special  odor. 

The  French  have  a  great  amplitude  for  accom- 
modating their  domestic  friends  within  the  four 
walls  of  their  habitats.  In  the  next  room  our 
friend  Mr.  Pig  was  at  home  and  next  came  Mr. 
Horse  or  horses.  Above  was  the  hayloft.  So  with 
our  kitchen  duly  installed  and  a  good  soft  bed 
with  a  roof  over  all  we  settled  down  to  a  real  home- 
life  together. 

And  we  were  at  home  'neath  the  balmy  summer 
sky  of  France.  During  the  day  the  boys  were 
unmindful  of  Fritzie  who  was  on  the  lookout  just 
two  and  a  half  miles  beyond  the  village.  Fuller, 
even  whistled  capriciously  thru  the  soft  afternoon 


FRONT  LINE  SPORT  115 

beneath  the  shade  of  a  friendly  eucalyptus.  He 
should  worry  about  coming  events;  this  was  his 
attitude,  which  was  well  for  it  afforded  us  a  valu- 
able lesson  in  faith  and  a  grounded  trust  in  the 
powers  that  be. 

September  8-9-10-11  passed  rapidly.  During 
these  days  we  saw  much  evidence  that  led  us  to 
believe  a  pending  battle  was  near.  So  balanced 
were  our  forces,  it  seemed,  that  the  slightest  pre- 
text would  have  precipitated  a  herculean  cyclone 
with  power  that  naught  could  stay.  Ammunition 
dumps  were  filled  to  overflowing;  the  last  rails  of 
a  broad-gauge  railway  system  were  being  rushed 
into  position  to  admit  the  large  calibered  naval 
guns  which  were  now  far  in  the  rear;  small  artil- 
lery covered  the  Front  and  in  some  places  were 
wheel  to  wheel  for  miles;  signal  corps  men  were 
stringing  their  final  connections;  and  the  first-aid 
stations  were  being  erected  and  equipped  and  am- 
bulance corps  men  were  working  night  and  day  to 
prepare  for  coming  events. 

Other  than  a  short  drill  period  on  a  nearby 
French  Seventy-Five  each  day,  our  duties  were  few. 
There  were  no  outside  formations  and  we  were 
cautioned  to  remain  under  shelter  wherever  pos- 
sible. Paradoxical  as  it  may  seem,  we  were  on  a 
vacation.  In  the  hayloft  the  boys  took  their  daily 
forty  winks.  Three  good  meals  a  day  were  served. 
No  reveille,  no  retreat,  no  formations.  In  fact  the 
time  was  our  own.  What  a  change  from  the  rigid 
rules  back  at  the  training  camp.  We  were  ex- 
pected to  keep  in  close  proximity,  however,  to  an- 
swer an  unexpected  call. 


116  THRU  THE  FIRES  OF  FRANCE 

During  the  first  day  we  acquainted  ourselves 
with  the  general  topography  of  the  land  and  the 
geographical  centers.  We  discovered,  among  other 
things,  that  our  front  line  was  only  six  kilometers 
away  to  the  north.  But  we  were  inquisitive  and 
would  stand  for  hours  upon  an  elevated  spot 
straining  every  muscle  trying  to  see  Fritzie.  We 
could  see  the  demarkation  in  the  lines;  curling 
smoke  on  a  mountain  yonder;  enemy  observation 
balloons  and  scouting  airplanes. 

Great  excitement  pervaded  our  ranks  the  first 
morning  when  it  was  discovered  that  an  aerial 
battle  was  in  progress.  A  German  Fokker,  darting 
between  the  white  puffs  of  anti-aircraft  fire,  at- 
tempted to  burn  our  nearby  balloon  when  he  was 
attacked  by  an  American  flying  a  Spad.  At  this 
point  three  German  planes  came  to  the  rescue  as 
did  also  three  American  planes.  The  general  me- 
lee was  characteristic  of  a  parlor  aquarium  scene, 
the  planes  diving  in  the  air  much  the  same  as  gold- 
fish in  water.  So  close  were  the  contestants  to  each 
other  that  it  seemed  they  would  all  fall  in  a  general 
collision.  Darting  in  and  out,  looping,  side-slip- 
ping, nose-diving  amid  the  rat-tat-tat  of  machine 
guns  made  the  whole  spectacle  thrilling  to  a  high 
degree.     The  boys  called  it  "sport.'' 

From  our  point  of  vantage  we  could  plainly  see 
the  struggle.  A  plane  is  seen  to  side-slip,  turn  into 
a  tail-spin  never  to  right  itself  again.  At  sight  of 
their  falling  comrade  the  planes  separated  and 
darted  to  their  respective  lines.  The  boys  were 
divided  in  their  opinion  as  to  who  fell,  German 
or  American. 


FRONT  LINE  SPORT  117 

This  was  our  first  lesson  in  real  aerial  work. 
Later  in  the  day  our  nearest  observation  balloon 
was  sent  earthward  in  flames  by  an  attacking 
Boche.  The  observer  jumped  in  the  nick  of  time 
for  the  burning  gas-bag  fell  within  a  few  feet  of 
the  frail  silken  parachute  in  its  downward  flight. 
''Wasn't  this  the  height  of  sport?"  Kid  Thomp- 
son inquired. 

So  all  thru  the  day  the  enemy  made  attempts  to 
pierce  the  eyes  of  the  army — the  observation  bal- 
loons and  scouting  planes^ — and  it  is  not  revealing 
a  secret  to  state  that  the  Americans  believed  in 
reciprocity. 

Next  day  it  rained  and  continued  to  do  so  thru 
the  9th  10th  and  11th.  The  climatic  condition  was 
excellent  camouflage  for  final  preparations.  Amid 
great  activity,  yet  inactive  within  our  own  Battery, 
we  lived,  moved  and  had  our  being. 


CHAPTER  30 

Battle  of  St.  Mihiel 

The  pictorial  panorama  of  the  impending  battle 
at  length  passed  in  review.  On  the  eve  of  battle 
we  were  cautioned  to  retire  fully  dressed  and  a 
strange  foreboding  gripped  our  souls  as  we  fell 
into  a  restless  slumber. 

At  a  late  hour  the  rain  had  ceased  falling  and 
now  thru  an  occasional  rift  in  the  fleeting  clouds 
the  stars  shone  in  all  their  brilliance.  It  would 
seem  that  mighty  Providence  had  entered  into 
partnership  with  the  Commanding  General,  repres- 
sing the  elements  and  making  ready  the  way  for 
the  first  all- American  drive  and  victory. 

In  the  hayloft  all  was  peace.  The  men  were 
apparently  in  deep  slumber  when,  at  the  stroke 
of  one,  the  flood-gates  of  hell  opened  and  every  man 
sprang  to  his  feet  in  unison.  The  combined  thun- 
der of  artillery  fire — the  greatest  concentration  of 
fire  the  world  has  ever  witnessed — shook  the  found- 
ations of  the  earth.  It  seemed  that  the  combined 
volcanic  and  earthquake  disturbances  since  the 
time  of  Adam  had  simultaneously  reincarnated  for 
the  express  purpose  of  making  a  massed  attack 
upon  mankind. 

**As  you  were,"  shouted  Sergeant  Fleck,  "await 
further  orders.''  The  command  was  necessary  to 
avoid  confusion  in  the  ranks.  We  searched  in  the 
hay  for  our  caps  and  coats.    The  night  before  these 


BATTLE   OF  ST.  MIHIEL  119 

articles  had  been  neatly  placed,  but  in  our  embar- 
rassment we  could  not  think  where.  Coherent 
reasoning  was  gone. 

BANG — a  shell  exploded  near  the  entrance  of 
our  barnhouse,  it  seemed.  BANG,  BANG — two 
ripping  shells  tore  the  air  in  quick  succession.  The 
noise  was  intense.  In  another  moment  Sgt.  Fleck 
shouted,  ' '  Proceed  to  dugouts ! ' '  Above  the  noise 
little  Bortolotto  cried  out  pitifully,  **Sgt.  Fleck! 
0,  Sgt.  Fleck ! "  He  was  allowed  to  follow  the  ser- 
geant first  and  we  all  silently  and  quickly  filed 
out  of  the  door  and  made  straightway  for  the  dug- 
outs. 

Our  travel  from  the  barn-door  to  the  dugout, 
or  abri,  was  swift.  Out  over  the  landscape  many 
gruesome  objects  could  be  seen  in  the  flash  of  artil- 
lery fire.  We  stumbled  into  the  abri  and,  as  Sgt. 
Fleck  called  the  roll  of  number  one  gun-crew,  our 
teeth  chattered  and  knees  shook.  Try  as  we  did  to 
master  our  emotions  we  could  not  stay  the  im- 
petuous movement  of  jaw  and  limb.  ''Scribby" 
cracked  a  joke  and  we  all  laughed.  It  helped  us 
to  recover  and  find  our  bearings.  We  listened  to 
the  screaming  shells  without  and  studied  the  inter- 
fluent of  crash  and  whistle. 

The  guns  roared.  They  sang,  they  cursed.  They 
filled  the  air  with  such  a  deafening  and  discord- 
ant salvo  as  soldiers  seldom  have  heard  since  the 
world  began. 

The  ahri  was  damp  and  water  was  trickling  into 
a  pool  in  the  corner.  We  were  tempted  to  quench 
our  parched  throats  but  our    crowded    condition 


120  THRU  THE  FIRES  OF  FRANCE 

would  not  permit  of  movement.  Perhaps  we  needed 
a  lesson  in  dynamics,  at  this  point,  to  help  stay 
our  oscillating  knees.  Ten  minutes  passed.  We 
regained  our  equilibrium  somewhat. 

Lieut.  Duffie  came  to  our  dugout  and  asked  if 
all  was  well.  We  marveled  at  his  bravery  and 
wondered  why  he  exposed  himself  unnecessarily. 
Another  ten  minutes  went  by.  Again  the  Lieu- 
tenant came.  This  time  he  brot  glad  tidings. 
''Not  a  shell  is  coming  our  way,'^  he  said,  ''and 
from  all  reports  Fritzie  is  on  the  run." 

Now  that  was  strange.  Did  not  a  shell  fall  in 
our  midst  while  we  were  in  transit  from  barn  to 
abril  And  did  we  not  see  many  gruesome  sights 
en  route?  True,  it  required  some  30  seconds  to 
make  the  dash  but  we  were  certain  of  our  ob- 
servations. 

Out  into  the  flash-light  of  cannon  the  men  ven- 
tured. Our  knees  were  no  longer  in  motion.  We 
could  speak  to  one  another  more  calmly.  Directly 
behind  our  dugout  was  a  gun  emplacement  and  the 
cannoneers  worked  over-time.  It  was  the  report  of 
this  gun  that  made  us  certain  that  shells  were 
bursting  in  our  midst. 

The  noise  was  terriffic  but  the  boys  argued  that 
greater  noise  was  possible.  We  glanced  up  and 
down  the  front  lines  and  noted  the  iridescent  flash 
of  artillery  fire.  Intermittent  darkness  would  settle 
down  upon  the  lines,  but  only  for  an  instant,  for 
the  momentary  lull  seemed  to  stir  the  illusive 
salamander  into  greater  activity,  and  flash  and  fire, 
pouring   forth,   would   drench   the    landscape    in 


BATTLE   OF  ST.  MIHIEL  121 

brilliant  light,  making  every  nook  and  corner 
visible. 

Star  shells,  descending  from  on  high,  scattered 
incandescent  white-light  upon  the  battlefield.  Its 
shimmering  afterglow  would  blend  into  the  reddish 
flash  of  artillery  fire. 

And  so  the  fire  continued  for  hours.  Later  came 
the  steady  synchronized  harmonized  barrage  and 
drum-fire,  a  multitude  of  cannon  firing  as  if  a 
single  hand  were  in  control.  The  drum-fire  was 
a  prelude  to  Chopin's  funeral  march — this  the 
Hun  knew  and  so  the  spasmodic  signals  of  white- 
light  from  the  German  lines  suddenly  changed  in 
hue.  Instead  of  the  inquisitive  flares  came  colored 
rockets  and  star-shells,  the  lights  that  call  for  help. 
They  are  a  cry  in  the  night,  a  distress  signal,  a 
fireworks  that  only  the  German  signal  corps  can 
comprehend. 

Number  one  gun-crew,  in  charge  of  Sgt.  Fleck, 
was  ordered  to  prepare  for  action.  The  crew 
crawled  up  to  an  advanced  position  recently  in 
charge  of  a  French  anti-aircraft  battery,  planted 
an  out-post,  wired  the  position,  established  com- 
munication with  the  gun-pit  and  prepared  for 
action.  At  daybreak  it  was  certain  that  the  Boche 
would  make  attempts  at  aerial  observation  and 
possibly  day-bombing. 

The  balance  of  the  company  was  ordered  to 
stand  by.  It  was  a  well  known  fact  that  in  the 
event  of  frustration  and  threatened  counter  attack 
we  would  be  ordered  to  assist  the  Infantry. 

The  first  excitement  was  now  over.    Fleck's  crew 


122  THRU  TliE  FIRES  OF  FRANCE 

was  off  to  duty  and  the  remaining  boys  of  the 
Battery  were  either  abed  or  in  a  nearby  field.  I 
walked  guard  from  2  to  4  and  as  I  paced  the 
narrow  path  in  measured  beat  my  thots  drifted 
back  to  California.  The  constant  outward  thunder 
produced  a  strange  inward  silence  and  I  was  one 
with  my  thots.  I  wondered  at  the  peace  and  quiet 
of  Southern  California  and  asked  if  some  future 
time  would  find  our  Battery  home  again  with  our 
dear  ones. 

A  thousand  fancies  betook  my  fervent  brain  as 
I  wandered  back  into  childhood,  youth,  manhood 
and  then  into  the  first  days  of  the  war.  I  re- 
traced the  old  days  at  the  training  camp  and  called 
to  mind  the  anxious  and  impatient  moments  when 
the  boys  shouted,  "Lead  me  to  them!"  Or 
** Bring  on  the  Germans!"  Now  it  was  true — we 
were  on  the  Front  and,  at  this  moment,  in  the 
very  center  of  the  world's  greatest  artillery  activ- 
ity. 

Giant  naval  railroad  artillery  broke  the  monotony 
of  French  Seventy  Fives.  With  a  howling  twang 
amid  peals  of  thunder  these  monster  rifles  hurled 
enormous  projectiles  into  space.  Death  and  de- 
struction lay  in  the  wake  of  every  shell.  The  near- 
est railroad  battery  was  located  a  fourth  of  a  mile 
to  our  left.  Its  forward  lunge  and  recoil  shook 
our  barn  vigorously. 

Heavy  artillery  in  the  rear  sent  screaming 
shells  over  our  heads.  Whirl-ez-ez-z-z-z  out  over 
the  line  the  shells  sped  and  twenty  seconds  later 
a  distant  thud  returned  to  our  impatient  ears.  And 


BATTLE  OF  ST.  MIHIEL  123 

SO  the  hour  passed.  Then  another,  and  I  was  re- 
lieved from  guard.  To  sleep  was  an  impossibility 
so  I  replaced  my  equipment,  procured  my  souvenir 
cane  and,  with  gentility  of  manner,  strode  down 
the  village  street  in  true  soldier  fashion. 

The  rain  had  stopped  and  the  clouds  were 
rapidly  disappearing.  A  faint  streak  of  light 
came  from  the  east.  The  tanks  were  under  way. 
And  now  the  doughboy,  at  the  stroke  of  five,  rose 
from  his  hated  water-soaked  trench  and  went  roar- 
ing over  the  top.  The  Infantry  swept  across  no 
man's  land,  across  the  trenches  the  Boches  had 
been  widening  and  deepening  for  four  years.  In 
numerous  dugouts  were  found  the  none  too  hope- 
ful occupants  who  were  hiding  as  a  result  of  the 
tremendous  artillery  preparation.  A  well-posted 
observer  could  see  the  operations  for  miles  around. 
A  movie  man  would  have  thrilled  with  joy  at  the 
opportunity. 

On  the  Rue  la  Croix  between  the  village  cemetery 
and  the  village  church,  a  distance  of  three  blocks — 
as  blocks  go  in  an  average  American  city — I  be- 
came an  itinerant  sight-seeker.  The  morning  air 
was  brisk  but  an  army  overcoat  well  buttoned  kept 
the  body-heat  within  bounds. 

Out  at  the  cemetery  the  elevation  was  good  and 
we  grouped  about  to  watch  the  march  of  events. 
Near  the  church  in  the  center  of  the  small  village 
stood  the  first-aid  stations.  Here  also  we  would 
gather  to  witness  the  returning  heroes. 

The  first  rays  of  dawn  stole  over  the  landscape 
at  last.  It  was  a  relief  to  our  strained  eyes  and 
over-abundant  inquisitiveness. 


124  THRU  THE  FIRES  OF  FRANCE 

The  artillery  had  gradually  ceased  its  activity 
to  allow  the  Infantry  an  unchecked  advance,  and 
now  all  was  quietness  except  for  an  occasional  re- 
port which  would  intercept  the  new  found  si- 
lence. 

Over  the  dell  on  the  highway — the  main  artery 
leading  up  to  the  Front — we  could  discern  long 
columns  of  marching  troops.  In  the  semi-darkness 
khaki-clad  men,  fully  equipped  and  armed  to  the 
teeth,  were  marching — thousands  upon  thousands. 
They  came  pouring. in  on  all  sides.  How  long  this 
line  had  been  moving  we  could  not  judge  and  only 
the  dawn  revealed  the  secret  movement. 

At  daybreak  the  areoplanes  were  on  hand  and 
observation  balloons  were  ascending  into  space. 
The  whir  of  the  plane  was  new  music  to  our  ears. 
Like  great  birds  these  planes  swung  out  over  the 
front  lines  and  then  returned  with  messages  which 
were  dropt  on  the  battery  sites. 

After  an  interval  of  comparative  silence  the  large 
calibered  rifles  opened  up  again.  New  data  had 
been  brot  back  by  the  bird-men  who  had  gone  to 
the  lines  in  search  of  information.  The  plane  re- 
turning would  descend  to  earth  in  spirals,  make 
one  dashing  sweep  and  deposit  a  message  in  midair 
which  quickly  fell,  according  to  the  law,  upon  large 
white  canvases  stretched  upon  the  ground  for  the 
purpose.  The  characteristic  tail  of  every  message 
would  whirl  and  spin  in  the  wind,  giving  the  re- 
ceiving station  due  warning  of  the  coming  areo- 
gram. 

Soon  the  aircraft  was  well  in  evidence.     Allied 


BATTLE   OF   ST.   MIHIEL  125 

planes  dominated  the  situation.  Not  a  German 
ventured  over.  Once  an  American  bird-man 
crost  the  path  of  a  traveling  projectile  which  had 
been  deflected  in  its  flight  by  the  loss  of  a  rotating 
band.  The  collision  was  tragic — the  shooting  of  a 
friendly  messenger — but  we  learned  later  with 
much  relief  that  the  aviator  escaped  only  with 
severe  bruises.  At  the  hospital  I  talked  with  the 
officer  personally.    His  tale  was  hair-raising. 


CHAPTER  31 
Victory 

News  of  the  battle  came  back  to  us  desultorily. 
We  caught  bits  of  the  great  story  from  the  re- 
turning wounded.  Victory  was  ours — this  was  cer- 
tain. The  Hun  had  been  taken  by  complete  sur- 
prise. Lieut.  Duffie,  who  had  gone  to  the  advanced 
front,  returned  with  a  pet  phrase:  *'We  eaught 
them  with  their  boots  off,"  he  proudly  told  us. 

The  St.  ]\lihiel  salient — 150  square  miles — was 
completely  evacuated  by  the  Hun.  The  awkward 
*'pockef  was  now  clipped  and  the  line  straight- 
ened. From  the  ''Stars  and  Stripes,"  the  official 
paper  for  the  American  Expeditionary  Forces 
(A.  E.  F.),  France,  dated  Sept.  20th,  1918,  we 
read  the  following  account: 

''The  First  American  Army,  commanded  in  the 
field  by  General  John  J.  Pershing,  struck  its  first 
blow  last  week.  *  *  *  The  St.  Mihiel  salient  was 
an  ungainly  snout  projecting  from  the  German 
line,  an  area  of  some  150  square  miles,  almost  half 
the  size  of  the  Chateau-Thierry  salient.  The  Ger- 
mans had  clung  to  it  grimly  since  the  second  month 
of  the  war,  because  it  held  a  bit  of  fair  and  fertile 
French  land  in  bondage,  because  it  annihilated  a 
precious  French  railway  junction  and  thus  cut 
completely  the  short  and  easy  communication  be- 
tween lonesome  Verdun  and  Lorraine,  and  because 
it  had  proved,  and  might  again  prove,  useful  in  any 
attack  on  Verdun." 


VICTORY  137 

At  the  receiving  hospital  we  greeted  the  dough- 
boys. Fresh  from  action  they  came  with  eager 
eyes  and  resolute  bearing,  some  legless,  others  minus 
an  arm,  a  hand  or  an  eye.  Some  reached  the 
operating  table  and  then  crossed  the  Great  Divide ; 
some  passed  over  en  route.  But  a  majority  came 
in  with  a  ''scratch" — a  finger  or  so  missing  or  a 
3-inch  gash  in  the  thigh.  Laboring  under  power- 
ful emotions  most  of  the  men  failed  to  grasp  the 
severity  of  their  wounds. 

One  fellow  who  had  lost  a  finger  gave  us  a 
cursory  sketch  of  a  recent  encounter  while  he 
perched  stork-like  on  either  leg.  He  literally 
danced  in  pain  and  yet  would  not  admit  it.  He 
would  have  his  story  out  and  he  would  be  brave. 
"A  scratch,"  he  said. 

Large  supply  trucks  gathered  the  slightly 
wounded,  then  hurried  to  the  rear.  The  sight 
was  truly  a  novel  one,  the  intermixture  of  khaki 
and  snow-white  linen. 

Early  in  the  day  the  first  contingent  of  prisoners 
came  trickling  back  on  their  way  to  safety.  For 
two  days  a  steady  stream  came  down  from  the 
north — 15,000  in  all.  They  came  in  groups  of  fifty, 
a  hundred,  two  hundred  and  in  every  case  there 
were  two  M.  P.'s  in  charge,  one  leading,  one 
trailing. 

In  fact  only  the  cavalry  and  the  airplanes  kept 
pace  with  the  swift  doughboys  who  scarcely  both- 
ered to  send  back  their  hundreds  of  Huns,  but  let 
them  drift  back  unguarded  to  be  picked  up  later 
by  the  M.  P.    Imagine  a  group  of  American  pris- 


128  THEU  THE  FIEES  OF  FRANCE 

oners  in  a  like  predicament,  why !  they  would  have 
wiped  a  couple  of  Boche  guards  completely  out  of 
existence. 

The  prisoners  came  in  droves,  each  displaying 
an  incorrigible  cheerfulness  that  would  have  deep- 
ly grieved  the  war-firm  of  Ludendorif  and  Hinden- 
burg.  In  the  first  day's  bag  were  several  regi- 
mental commanders,  majors,  lieutenant  colonels,  a 
battalion  complete  in  staff  and  script  and  a  be- 
spectacled professor  who  had  invented  a  poison 
gas.  As  is  the  custom  in  war-fare,  these  commis- 
sioned gentlemen  were  motored  to  the  rear,  an  act 
of  respect  for  the  higher  rank.  Every  attention  was 
given  them  in  the  hope  that  valuable  information 
would  fall  from  their  lips. 

During  the  morning  two  Packards  passed  our 
quarters  bearing  officials  who  had  so  recently  been 
overshadowed  by  the  Black  Eagle  and  who  were 
now  accompanied  by  a  representative  of  our  Golden 
Eagle,  all  conversing  in  the  friendliest  sort  of 
fashion. 

Towards  noon  Sgt.  Fleck  and  crew  returned  to 
quarters.  For  obvious  reasons  each  man  wore  a 
full-moon  face.  Each  sought  to  effect  a  normal 
facial  grin  but  to  conceal  the  tri-fold  emotions  of 
ferocity,  amusement  and  awe,  peculiar  to  Yanks, 
was  an  impossibility,  hence  the  lunar  lollipops. 

''Kid'*  Thompson  and  McHenry  made  a  bold 
attempt  to  depict  all  they  had  seen.  Woolaver 
talked  long  and  loud  and  gathered  his  audience 
quickly.  Groups  of  boys  assembled  in  the  field, 
at  the  corner  pump  and  in  the  hayloft,  talking 


VICTORY  129 

loudly,  some  gesticulating  wildly  and  the  ever- 
present  and  inevitable  arguments  arose  ghost-like 
in  our  midst. 

All  thru  the  days  ''news  agents"  came  back 
with  "first  hand  inf oriaation. "  There  was  the 
energetic  ''Curly"  Best  who,  tho  he  talked  as  if 
a  rope  was  tightly  coiled  about  the  larynx,  was  a 
"go-getter."  And  "Pigeon"  Jester  knew  a  thing 
or  two  altho  Gulick  came  in  for  his  share  and 
the  two  boys,  professing  to  embrace  latitudinarian- 
ism,  whatever  that  means,  sought  to  impinge  upon 
the  other  fellow  his  opinions,  raw  as  they  some- 
times were. 

Now  Cornelius  Cook  and  "Panhandle"  Emerick 
would  engage  in  some  real  mental  gymnastics  and 
one  or  the  other  would  submit  if  bested,  but  not 
Gulick!  No,  sir,  and  our  good  friend  in  making 
an  outlandish  statement  would  cling  to  the  end, 
or,  finding  himself  hopeless,  would  revert  to  howl- 
ing laughter.  In  fact,  Gulick  always  talked  and 
laughed  in  concert  and  thus  would  retire,  after 
a  brisk  argument,  to  his  innermost  thots  in  perfect 
contentment. 

In  the  company  office  across  the  street  gathered 
the  "noncoms"  and  other  notables.  Our  new 
"Top,"  "Abe"  Nathan,  cousin  of  Kottinger  of 
the  tribe  of  Izy  Kazat  and  chambermaid  to  Lieut. 
Duffie,  was  chief  orator  and  boss.  Fritz,  our  mascot 
airedale  captured  from  the  Germans,  added  to  the 
brilliance  of  "Abe's"  conferences. 

Now,  the  common  herd  of  privates  in  the  barn 
would  look  upon  Abe  &  Co.  with  envy  and  scorn. 


130  THRU  THE  FIRES  OF  FRANCE 

And  the  ''noncoms^'  returned  their  superior  gaze 
in  true  Napoleonic  style  and  you  should  see  the 
petty  thots  bound  and  rebound  upon  the  wall 
of  demarkation.  At  times  it  seemed  that  the  ancient 
structure  of  caste  privileges  would  obliterate  that 
finer  relationship  of  man — Brotherhood. 

So  you  see,  reader,  the  condition  of  affairs  on 
this  day  of  all  days  when  titanic  issues  should 
have  taken  precedence  over  all  other  thots  and 
engaged  our  entire  attention.  Perhaps  the  emo- 
tions of  man  play  upon  our  subtler  bodies  in  a  very 
real  way  and,  if  so,  then  we  may  have  joined  the 
seething  emotional  world  and  acted  upon  the  psy- 
chology of  the  moment. 

Moreover,  we  were  idle  and  without  a  definite 
piece  of  work  at  hand.  We  were  ready  to  fight, 
to  death  if  needs  be,  but  would  insist,  in  idle 
moments,  upon  gossip,  abuse  and  general  un- 
brotherliness.     Happily  these  occasions  were  few. 


CHAPTER  32 

Kaleidoscopic  Days 

All  thru  the  day  our  naval  guns  hurled  hot 
steel  into  the  distant  enemy  lines.  At  noon  an 
aerial  battle  was  in  progress.  Three  Germans  came 
over  the  lines  looking  for  trouble.  Gibson,  who 
had  stationed  himself  in  the  field  nearby,  came 
rushing  to  the  barn  and  shouted  the  hews.  We 
saw  a  single  Spad  coming  on.  Would  this  illus- 
trious bird-man  dare  and  do  and  perhaps  die? 
Our  question  was  soon  answered ;  into  the  group  he 
darted,  and  we  could  hear  the  rat-tat-tat  of  ma- 
chine guns  which  speaks  a  well  known  language. 
We  breathed  lightly;  we  clinched  our  fists.  The 
odds  were  great  but  our  resolute  warrior  finds  his 
mark.  A  Hun  sideslips  and  falls  to  earth.  Death 
to  one,  disorder  to  two  and  victory  to  the  in- 
domitable bird-man. 

Thru  the  afternoon  thousands  of  army  trucks 
passed  our  corner.  Ambulances  and  field-kitchens ; 
food-supply,  munitions,  troop  and  auto-trucks  came 
and  went  in  one  unending  line.  Traffic  M.  P.'s 
stood  at  every  corner  directing  the  movements. 
A  motorcyclist  would  stop,  draw  forth  a  map,  ask 
a  few  questions  and  be  off;  undue  hesitancy 
would  have  caused  a  jam  in  the  on-coming  line 
of  vehicles. 

At  the  village  church  the  corps  men  established 
a  temporary  hospital.     The  Salvation  Army  was 


132  THRU  THE  FIRES  OF  FRANCE 

overflowing  with  wounded  as  was  also  the  Y.  M. 
C.  A.  where  hot  chocolate  and  cigarettes  were 
served  to  deserving  men. 

The  sun  finally  settled  on  the  western  rim  of 
the  world  and  with  its  passing  came  the  end  of 
a  perfect  day.  Success  had  attended  every  effort 
of  the  American  forces,  and  by  nightfall  the  Ger- 
man army  was  many,  many  miles  away. 

In  the  electric  hours  of  Friday  morning,  the  day 
following,  two  scouting  parties,  groping  their  way 
cautiously  thru  the  village  of  Hattonville,  came 
face  to  face  in  the  street  and  when  it  became  cer- 
tain that  friend  faced  friend  a  general  meeting 
followed.  In  the  joy  of  union  the  Yanks  grasped 
each  other  by  the  hand  as  only  Yanks  can  do. 

This  union  completed  the  new  front  line  running 
thru  Combres — St.  Maurice — Hattonville — St.  Be- 
noit — Thiaucourt.  The  last  named  being  some  25 
miles  southwest  of  Metz,  the  objective  of  the  First 
Army. 

Except  for  Sgt.  Fleck's  crew,  who  had  worked 
on  a  French  position  a  few  hours  the  first  morning, 
our  Battery  had  not  participated  in  actual  combat. 
True,  we  were  on  the  Front  when  the  floodgate 
opened  and  were  prepared  in  an  emergency  to 
assist  the  doughboy,  but  the  Hun  had  been  caught 
so  completely  unawares  that  our  services  were  not 
required.  Besides  we  were  without  anti-aircraft 
equipment  and  you  know  that  good  intentions  alone 
are  not  enough  in  modern  warfare. 

The  first  morning  after  the  battle  a  few  strag- 
gling prisoners  passed  thru  the  village.    They  were 


KALEIDOSCOPIC  DAYS  13;} 

tired,  dusty  and  discouraged  and  it  was  evident 
that  they  represented  remnants  of  a  broken  down 
war-machine  and  had  found  shelter  within  the 
Allied  lines  for  the  night  only.  The  nectural 
vigilance  in  anxiety  and  fading  hope  vanished  with 
a  coming  day  and  it  required  but  little  skill  for 
the  Yanks  to  clear  the  occupied  territory  of  all 
wandering  enemy. 

Lieut.  Duffie  and  a  squad  of  men  started  for  the 
Front  in  an  auto-mount  borrowed  from  a  French 
battery  but  the  traffic  was  so  congested  that  they 
returned  to  quarters  in  discouragement.  The  boys 
had  hoped  to  crawl  up  to  the  new  positions  and 
help  wing  a  Boche  or  two.     This  was  the  13th. 

Next  day  we  spruced  up  at  the  village  pump. 
Now  water,  just  plain,  ordinary  water,  was  a 
scarce  commodity  on  the  Front.  Our  only  pump- 
ing station  worked  over  time.  In  fact  there  was 
such  a  demand  for  bathing  that  we  decided  to 
make  our  acquaintance  with  the  village  stream. 
The  thot  soon  spread  thru  a  baker's  dozen  or  more 
and  off  to  the  old  swimming  hole  we  betook  our- 
selves with  one  lad  shouting,  ''Hie  thee  hence!'' 

In  a  green  pasture  beyond  the  creek  was  camped 
a  brigade  of  Infantry.  Hundreds  of  lads  were  busy 
cleaning  their  outfits  and  bathing.  They  had  come 
thru  a  stiff  campaign  and  their  bodies,  once  dis- 
robed, evinced  the  fact. 

One  fellow,  Jim  by  name,  was  in  bad  straits. 
He  had  had  a  bath  two  weeks  previous,  a  shave 
once  and  the  only  clothes  he  possessed  were  on  his 
back.    He  owned  a  skimpy  towel,  a  half -used  cake 


134  THKU  THE  FIRES  OF  FRANCE 

of  kitchen  soap  and  a  strait  razor.  Extra  clothing 
had  been  cast  aside  to  make  a  lighter  pack;  toilet 
soap  was  impossible  to  obtain  and  the  razor  outfit 
stolen. 

Luckily  the  sun  was  shining  brightly  when  Jim 
began  operations.  First,  a  thick  crust  of  dried  mud 
was  scraped  from  his  shoes.  Then  off  came  leggins, 
SOX,  overshirt,  breeches  and  undersuit.  Soap, 
water  and  ''elbow  grease '*  worked  wonders  and 
the  clean  clothing  was  hung  over  the  bushes  for 
Old  Sol  to  dry. 

Next  a  shave  was  in  order.  Where  would  Jim 
find  the  scented  shaving  cream,  the  camel-hair 
shaving  brush,  hot  water,  a  keen-edged  safety,  a 
mirror,  the  herpicide  and  talcum?  These  articles 
were  not  to  be  had,  but  then  an  American  soldier  is 
very  resourceful.  Cold  water  and  kitchen  soap 
soon  produced  a  good  lather,  the  finger  tips  served 
as  a  brush  and  a  small  pool  of  water  made  an 
excellent  reflector.  The  strait  razor,  patted  over 
the  shoe-top,  produced  a  fairly  good  edge.  The 
shave  over,  herpicide  and  powder  were  thot  of  and 
Jim  promised  himself  an  extra  helping  after  the 
war,  back  home  in  dear  old  U.  S.  A, 

Next  came  the  bath.  This  over,  the  skimpy 
towel,  rubbed  briskly  over  the  body,  gave  a  healthy 
glow.  Old  Sol  is  a  wonderful  orb ;  see — his  clothes 
are  dry.  Dressing  was  a  cheerful  occupation  and 
soon  Jim  was  all  ''dolled"  up. 

"Well,  old  Kid,"  Jim  shouted  over  his  shoulder 
as  he  started  camp  ward,  "I'm  settin'  pretty." 

On  our  way  back  from  the  swimming  hole  we 


KALEIDOSCOPIC  DAYS  135 

came  upon  some  wandering  refugees.  The  first 
contingent,  the  advance  guards  of  hundreds, 
reached  our  small  village  after  having  been  re- 
leased from  bondage  by  the  American  forces.  It 
was  fine  to  witness  the  greetings  that  passed  be- 
tween the  peasant  folk  and  the  soldiers.  After  the 
battle  was  won  the  old  folks  and  small  children 
came  out  of  their  cellars  and  dugouts,  many  fall- 
ing to  their  knees  in  prayer  and  tears  of  in- 
coherent thanksgiving,  the  young  girls  flinging 
their  arms  around  the  embarrassed  doughboys  and 
kissing  them  without  reserve,  in  the  name  of 
Liberty,  Egalite  and  Fraternite. 

As  we  gazed  long  and  sorrowfully  at  the  groups 
of  refugees  who  came  streaming  into  the  village 
during  the  following  two  days,  we  were  reminded 
of  the  snug  little  homes  that  nestled  'neath  the 
shadows  of  our  wooded  hills  in  California.  The 
contrast  was  marked — to  see  these  homeless  wan- 
derers, the  inevitable  product  of  man-made  war. 
They  were  victims  of  circumstances  just  as  our 
mothers,  fathers,  brothers  and  sisters  might  have 
been  victims  of  circumstances 

The  sight  was  enough  to  fire  the  emotions  of 
a  fighting  Yank  and  I  heard  many  remarks  that 
might  have  otherwise  remained  unsaid.  ''And  all 
because  one  man  had  ambition, ' '  Sgt.  Gilbert  often 
repeated. 

'  *  A  beast,  a  child-murderer,  the  greatest  vampire- 
ghoul  of  all  ages,*'  came  from  a  man  who  is  a 
man,  a  lover  of  children  and  a  minister  of  the 
gospel. 


136  THRU  THE  FIRES  OF  FRANCE 

On  this  same  afternoon  our  good  old  lady,  owner 
of  our  quarters,  returned  to  her  cherished  home. 
This  time  she  was  accompanied  by  her  son,  a 
strong  honest-looking  middle-aged  man  who  had 
worked  in  the  fields  under  German  rule  for  eight 
centimes  per  hour  (1%  cents).  Cook  Steger  in- 
vited the  two  to  be  our  special  guests  and  at  the 
supper  table  in  the  kitchen  these  two  hungry  souls 
munched  long  and  loud.  Truly  it  was  a  time  of 
thanksgiving  for  them.  Later  I  noticed  that  our 
land-lady  had  discovered  the  missing  rabbit  and 
pig  pens.  I  have  no  doubt  that  the  time  of  re- 
joicing far  overshadowed  her  domestic  troubles. 

Over  at  the  church  in  a  group  of  refugees,  newly 
arrived,  sat  a  fair  maiden  of  twenty  summers  or 
less.  She  was  beautiful  to  look  upon.  Her  missing 
arm  was  enough — it  was  the  old  story.  A  bursting 
shell  from  enemy  hands  had  torn  the  limb  from 
her  body;  miraculous  the  escape,  sad  the  result. 

An  old  lady,  hunchback  and  childish,  sat  upon 
the  church  steps.  She  fingered  a  small  bundle 
and  who  can  say,  this  may  have  been  her  only 
possession. 

Army  trucks  were  converted  into  jitney  buses 
and  our  civilian  population  was  motored  back  to 
receiving  centers  where  lodgings  were  furnished 
and  meals  served. 

I  fain  would  dwell  upon  this  painful  subject 
and  draw  do^^^a  on  my  heart  an  incessant  flow 
of  cries  from  the  wilderness.  I  dare  not  unlock 
the  floodgates;  in  the  interim  let  me  hurry  on. 

** Curly"  Best  was  promoted,  by  common  con- 


KALEIDOSCOPIC    DAYS  137 

sent,  to  chief  salvage  and  junk  dealer.  Already  to 
his  credit  you  could  count  a  motorcycle  and  side- 
car, two  German  machine  guns,  helmets,  gasmasks 
and  a  ferocious  dagger  with  belt.  The  motorcycle 
was  minus  a  front  rim  but  Best  soon  found  the 
missing  piece  and  set  to  work  under  candle  light 
to  construct  a  new  front  wheel.  Now  it  was  not 
urgent  that  "Curly"  work  under  candle  light; 
a  new  day  would  have  furnished  the  proper  illum- 
ination, but,  child-like,  he  could  not  stay  his  im- 
patient interest.  The  helmets  and  gasmasks  were 
begged  from  returning  prisoners  or  were  found 
along  the  highway  where  the  Huns,  realizing  their 
safety  and  permanent  residence  in  war-time 
France,  had  sent  their  headgear  flying  thru  space 
with  a  ''k— plop"  upon  the  ground.  Where  Best 
found  the  ''cold-steel"  only  the  Kaiser  knows. 

Our  good  friend  Corporal  Blanky,  peanut  vendor 
and  crap-shooter  de  luxe,  remained  in  Toul  on  our 
way  thru  because  of  sickness.  Poor  Sundquist 
contracted  a  severe  cold  and  was  removed  to  the 
base  hospital.  Both  boys  came  back  to  the  Battery 
later,  and  I  can  now  see  ''Sunny"  and  Blanky 
crossing  the  field  and  coming  up  to  our  gun  posi- 
tion all  smiles  and  glad  to  be  home  with  the  boys 
again. 


CHAPTER  33 

The  Advanced  Front 

On  September  17th  orders  came  to  proceed  to 
the  new  line.  The  kitchen  and  ordnance  equip 
ment  was  removed  from  the  old  lady's  house  and 
barn,  and  then  made  ready  for  the  trucks.  Packs 
were  rolled,  guns  oiled  and  equipment  examined. 
We  searched  in  the  hay  for  valuables  and  I  was 
reminded  of  the  hay  fight  that  was  waged  be- 
tween the  lofts  the  night  before.  In  the  hubbub 
a  shoe  or  two  entered  the  argument  and  later  a 
shower  of  them.  ** Bessie''  Yourstone  received  a 
shoe,  with  compliments,  right  on  the  *'dome,'' 
**You  can't  hurt  solid  ivory,"  Jimmie  Adams 
later  ventured  with  one  corner  of  his  mouth  slight- 
ly twisted. 

And  so  we  were  leaving  our  summer  camp.  No 
longer  could  we  peep  thru  the  kaleidoscope  or  at- 
tend the  daily  '* circus"  of  human  events.  In  iht 
afternoon  three  French  trucks  swung  into  our 
front  yard.  Four  had  been  ordered  and  Lieut. 
Duffie  cursed  the  erratic  Frenchmen.  In  staccato 
French  he  speedily  jumped  upon  their  guileless 
heads  and  was  rewarded  with,  **It  tiz  ze  order." 
Very  well,  thot  the  Lieutenant,  and  after  consult- 
ing the  Battery  decided  to  accept  the  three  trucks 
and  move  in  the  best  manner  possible,  because  to 
wait  for  another  truck  would  have  risked  a  night 
ride  amid  phantom  sky  raiders  and  sombre  thots. 


THE  ADVANCED  FEONT  139 

Just  before  leaving  a  sergeant  of  the  medical 
corps  came  for  the  salvaged  motorcycle.  ** Curly'' 
Best  relinquished  all  claim  and  returned  the  stolen 
property.  Sergeant  ^liller  tucked  his  newly  ac- 
quired double  Lewis  rotary  machine  gun  away  in 
our  baggage  and  made  good  its  escape.  Where  he 
acquired  the  gun  and  how  was  always  a  mystery 
to  me  but  on  the  Front  every  company  soon  learned 
the  art  of  self  help  helf . 

So  now  we  were  off.  The  three  trucks  raced 
past  the  familiar  village  graveyard,  out  onto  the 
highway.  The  small  village  of  Ansauville  faded  in 
the  distance  and  we  threw  a  wistful  glance  back  to 
our  summer  home,  our  place  of  initiation.  Legs 
and  arms  dangled  over  the  edge  of  each  crowded 
truck.  Lieut.  Duffie  was  certain  that  only  Yanks 
could  travel  thus. 

Ten  minutes'  ride  brot  us  to  the  front  line 
trenches  so  recently  evacuated  by  the  Germans. 
Elaborate  trenches  they  were  with  shelter,  running 
boards  and  communication  facilities.  Beyond  the 
trenches  our  highway  showed  marked  evidence  of 
artillery  activity;  the  road  was  literally  torn  to 
pieces  so  thoro  had  been  our  fire  on  the  twelfth 
when  the  Huns  retreated  over  this  same  route. 
Several  companies  of  colored  engineers  were  at 
work  repairing  and  placing  this  main  artery  in 
order.  In  the  fields  on  either  side  we  counted 
thousands  of  shell  holes. 

A  single  tank,  alone  and  obdurate,  stood  mo- 
tionless upon  a  side  hill.  Why  did  it  not  move  and 
join  the  traffic?     What  was  there  to  impede  its 


140  THRU  THE  FIRES  OF  FRANCE 

progress?  Had  its  mechanism  refused  to  play  or 
had  a  shell  blotted  out  its  life?  We  could  not 
say. 

Our  route  ran  thru  Bericourt,  Commercy,  Essey, 
Pannes  and  Nonsard.  About  one  mile  beyond 
Nonsard,  on  the  road  to  Vigneulles  we  stopped. 
The  location  was  three  miles  due  south  of  St.  Be- 
noit,  two  miles  east  of  0.  U.  Heudicourt  and  two 
miles  west  of  Pannes.  We  camped  that  night  on 
the  edge  of  a  stately  forest. 


CHAPTER  34 
The  Fun  Begins 

With  very  little  ceremony  we  quit  the  trucks, 
unloaded  our  baggage  and  provisions  and,  in  scat- 
tered formation,  scrambled  down  the  lane  and 
across  a  green  meadow.  In  the  first  clump  of 
oaks  we  staked  our  claims  and  pitched  tents.  Sgt. 
Gilbert  and  kitchen  force  soon  had  a  roaring  fire 
started  under  a  septic  coffee  can  and  we  were 
served,  a  few  minutes  later,  with  a  steaming  cup 
of  coffee,  corned  beef,  and  hard  tack. 

A  large  canvas  stretched  over  our  ordnance  and 
provisions  was  covered  in  turn  by  green  branches 
for  camouflage  and  a  guard  was  stationed  nearby. 

In  our  little  pup-tents  we  were  having  a  '  *  bully ' ' 
time.  Wayne  Huffman  and  I  buttoned  shelter- 
halves  and  bunked  together.  To  allow  proper 
drainage  a  small  ditch  was  indented  around  the 
tent.  Then  a  hollow  was  scooped  to  allow  for 
hips  and  grass  inlaid  gave  some  measure  of  com- 
fort. 

The  first  evening  was  warm.  Wayne  played  his 
guitar  as  I  sat  upon  my  blanket  writing  home.  The 
sun  was  set  and  twilight  brooded  over  the  coun- 
try. From  a  camp  across  the  meadow  came  strains 
of  music  and  the  fulgency  of  nature  struck  a 
sympathetic  note  in  every  heart.  War  was  least 
in  our  minds  and  in  its  stead  was  a  lavender  joy 
of  the  great  out-of-doors.     In  nature's  wonderful 


142  THRU  THE  FIRES  OF  FRANCE 

influence  we  gained  a  new  lease  on  life  and  I  can 
remember  tucking  into  army  blankets  with  a  new 
hope  of  a  future  home  coming  and  utter  trust  in 
the  Great  Architect  of  the  Universe. 

Darkness  gathered.  A  night-bird  sent  forth  a 
plaintive  call  and  a  slight  breeze  rustled  the  leaves 
about  our  tents.  In  the  watch  of  the  night  all 
were  unmindful  of  the  star  shells  that  intermit- 
tently illuminated  the  Front,  except  the  guards 
who  walked  their  posts  in  military  manner.  A 
moment  of  utter  silence  and  lassitude  came.  The 
guards  stopped  short  in  their  tracks  and  listened 
intently ! 

A  report;  biz-ez-ez-ez-zn-zn — BANG!  The  shell 
found  its  mark  near  the  corner  of  the  woods,  two 
blocks  from  our  camp.  Another  report  and — biz- 
ez-ez-ez-zn-zn — BANG ! 

Had  Fritzie  observed  our  movement  in  the  after- 
noon and  was  he  now  searching  out  our  location! 
Was  the  German  Landstrum  preparing  an  attack? 
Biz-ez-ez-ez-zn-zn — BANG ! 

The  Lieutenant  stirred  in  his  tent.  He  was  rest- 
less and  fully  aware  that  the  bomb-proof  trenches 
we  neglected  to  dig  might  become  an  urgent  neces- 
sity. Another  shell.  We  were  helpless.  As  the 
seventh  and  last  shell  came  crashing  thru  the  air 
we  quit  our  tents.  The  projectile  plowed  up  the 
earth  across  the  meadow  a  kilometer  away.  The 
explosion  died  away  and  the  lull  that  followed 
added  to  the  growing  suspense. 

A  distant  whir  greeted  our  ears.  An  enemy 
plane,  loaded  with  "eggs,"  was  on  an  errand  of 


THE  FUN  BEGINS  143 

destruction.  Distant  searchlights  soon  found  their 
mark  but  the  nocturnal  visitor  was  undismayed, 
for  amid  the  crashing  of  anti-aircraft  shells  he 
came  steadily  forward.  It  was  a  Gotha,  a  giant  of 
abnormal  proportions. 

The  plane  passed  over  our  camp  flying  low.  We 
held  our  breath  and  for  us  it  required  but  little 
imagination  to  visualize  the  result  of  a  dropping 
bomb.  Deep  in  the  woods  "she"  unloaded  and  the 
series  of  explosions  was  a  sad  reception  for  dough- 
boys yonder.  The  plane  made  a  wide  detour  and 
with  a  disappearing  night-raider  the  anti-aircraft 
guns  died  away  and  once  more  all  was  quiet. 

A  night  hawk  broke  the  silence  and  later  the 
boys  slipped  out  into  dreamland  one  by  one.  The 
evanescent  world  of  strife  became  the  confirmed 
haven  of  peace  and  rest.  Out  into  starry  space 
amid  nebular  vastness  we  flew  that  night  and  only 
with  great  reluctance  did  we  return  to  waking 
consciousness  the  following  morning. 

At  eight  o'clock  breakfast  was  over  and  the 
Lieutenant  assembled  the  Battery  for  the  purpose 
of  forming  a  scouting  party.  Two  French  Cap- 
tains were  on  hand  early  and  explained  that  within 
the  wooded  tract  was  located  a  German  anti-air- 
craft battery  and  also  that  fifty  or  sixty  Germans 
were  roaming  around  loose  within  the  sector.  So 
in  a  fan-shaped  manner  we  spread  out  over  the 
surrounding  woods  and  at  noon  all  returned  to 
camp  without  success.    In  the  afternoon  it  rained. 

The  following  day  was  a  busy  one.  Without 
ceremony  we  struck  tents,  gathered  together  our 


144  THRU  THE  FIRES  OF  FRANCE 

possessions  and  scampered  into  the  forest.  About 
three  hundred  yards  away  were  located  several 
abandoned  German  camps,  the  barracks  and  out- 
houses of  which  were  in  comparatively  good  con- 
dition; the  reader  will  remember  that  the  drive  of 
September  12th  was  such  a  complete  surprise  that 
the  Hun  retired  in  haste  and  disorder,  with  little 
time  to  destroy  the  buildings  while  evacuating. 

So  the  boys  descended  upon  the  camp  with  bulg- 
ing arms  and  glaring  curiosity.  Then  came  the 
scramble  for  beds,  stoves,  cupboards,  chairs,  tables, 
candles,  lamps,  and  the  many  other  useful  house- 
hold articles  which  Fritzie  left  behind.  If  you 
were  quick  and  grasping  you  were  in  luck ;  if  slow 
and  unselfish  you  were  out  of  luck.  On  the  Front 
it's  every  man  for  himself,  possession  being  nine- 
tenths  of  the  law. 

Our  new  camp  consisted  of  four  small  shacks 
and  the  kitchen,  irregularly  grouped  among  the 
giant  oaks  and  making  an  altogether  delightful 
summer  camp.  The  woods  were  inwrought  with 
heavy  foliage  of  fern  and  shrubbery  but  war  and 
military  life  blotted  out  the  romance  of  nature  and 
placed  her  on  a  war  basis. 

Utility,  not  beauty,  was  the  diction  of  Thor,  god 
of  war,  and  so  long,  ugly  bomb-proof  trenches  and 
shell  craters,  which  were  as  gaping  wounds,  dotted 
the  landscape.  Splintered  or  uprooted  trees  ac- 
companied every  shell  hole.  Caved-in  dugouts, 
barber-wire  entanglements,  rubbish  piles,  foul- 
smelling  stables,  and  the  works  of  man  generally 
were  strewn  about — a  constant  reminder  of  war. 


THE  FUN  BEGINS  145 

Our  little  shacks  were  soon  in  order ;  bunks  were 
nailed  into  place;  stoves  and  pipes  fitted,  curtains 
hung,  carpets  laid  and  bric-a-brac  daintily  and 
tastefully  placed,  that  is — to  a  soldier's  liking. 
For  instance,  in  one  corner  McHenry  nailed  a 
souvenir  Hun  helmet,  a  gas-mask,  guns,  daggers, 
trench  knives,  hand-grenades  and  other  dainty 
articles.  On  his  table  stood  a  carbide  lamp  in  its 
last  stage  of  corrodent  beauty;  a  sweet  smelling 
pipe;  several  well  worn  volumes;  and  the  usual 
matches  and  cigarette  ashes. 

Corporal  ''Vic"  Legerton  insisted  on  nailing 
nice  pictures,  clipped  from  a  photoplay  magazine, 
upon  his  portion  of  the  wall  and  I  can  assure  you 
that  ''Vic's"  excellent  taste  placed  him  on  par 
with  our  friend  David  W.  Griffith. 

I  wrote  a  story  some  three  weeks  later  about 
number  one  gun-crew's  shack,  or  Palace  as  it  was 
afterwards  named,  and  the  boys  were  so  pleased 
with  it  at  the  time  that  I  now  recopy  it  from  an 
old  letter  under  date  of  October  14th,  1918,  for 
your  pleasure.  ^'U.  S."  is  a  fictitious  character 
but  the  story  is  true  to  life. 


CHAPTER  35 
The  Palace 

Nestled  between  giant  oaks  in  a  deep  forest 
there  stands  a  shack.  I  say  shack ;  yes,  outwardly. 
A  stranger  would  glance  at  it  but  once  and  then 
turn  his  casual  look  to  other  objects  of  more  in- 
terest which  nature  has  so  generously  strewn  about. 
But  wait,  let  your  attention  be  arrested  if  but 
for  a  moment ;  let  me  show  you  about.  The  Palace 
will  interest  you,  yes,  but  the  life  that  stirs  therein 
will  astound  you. 

First  I  will  give  you  a  bit  of  history,  my  friend, 
concerning  the  ground  upon  which  the  Palace 
stands.  Let  us  take  this  path  which  leads  thru 
the  forest  and  up  to  the  front  door  and  by  the 
time  we  reach  the  Palace  I  will  have  given  you 
a  story — a  story  alive  with  romance.  This  is  a 
familiar  old  path.  The  boys  travel  over  it  every 
day;  it  leads  from  home  to  duty  and  from  duty 
to  home. 

And  now  the  story :  You  see,  it  was  in  the  year 
of  our  Lord,  nineteen  fourteen,  that  certain  Prus- 
sian *' gentlemen"  engineered  the  assassination  of 
an  Austrian  nobleman  and  operations  began.  The 
world  today  is  aware  of  the  sinister  intentions  of 
the  German  High  Command.  Austria  served  an 
impossible  ultimatum  on  Serbia  and  Russia  mobil- 
ized. Germany  saw  her  chance,  shouted  ^'Der 
tag!''  and,  like  the  fierce  leopard,  sprang  at  the 
throat  of  Europe.    France  came  to  the  rescue  of 


THE  PALACE  147 

Belgium  as  did  also  England.  Later  followed 
Italy,  Japan,  China,  Montenegro  and  then,  alas! 
much  later,  after  gross  violations  of  neutrality  had 
been  committed  by  the  Central  Powers,  the  Stars 
and  Stripes  crossed  the  ''pond" — with  Lusitania 
fresh  in  memory — bringing  the  Yanks  under  her 
sacred  folds.  Which  act  saw  practically  the  entire 
earth  under  arms. 

Meanwhile  the  Hun  hordes  overran  Belgium  and 
Northern  France.  Battles  of  a  desperate  character 
were  fought  and  the  brave  French,  sadly  in  need 
of  soldiers  and  equipment,  fell  back  fighting  stub- 
bornly, and  reluctantly  giving  up  ground  inch  by 
inch.  And  now  let  me  take  your  attention  for  a 
moment  from  this  gigantic  conflict  and  all  the 
elaborate  details  which  must  naturally  be  the  re- 
sult of  so  vast  an  effort,  and  let  us  turn  to  this 
sector  of  the  battle  front — this  beautiful  woods. 
You  see,  Fritzie  walked  this  very  path  that  you 
and  I  are  now  treading,  not  a  month  ago.  Think 
of  it!  A  month  ago  the  Hun  overran  this  very 
spot.  He  built  barracks  and  outhouses  and  dug- 
outs. An  elaborate  mass,  indeed,  with  every  mod- 
ern convenience  for  house  keeping,  and  with  a 
four-year  residence  which  gave  ample  time  for  im- 
provements. 

0 !  yes,  they  have  been  here  four  years.  Look — 
over  there  is  a  row  of  officers'  huts.  Not  bad  look- 
ing, eh?  Notice  the  moss  covered  walls  and  the 
rustic  effect,  the  windows  curtained  to  match. 

My  friend,  would  you  be  surprised  if  I  told  you 
that  the  day  after  the  Yanks  passed  thru  here,  the 


148  THRU  THE  FIEES  OF  FRANCE 

Hun  on  the  run,  you  could  pass  from  house  to 
house  and  discover  such  articles  as  pianos,  inlaid 
hardwood  furniture,  large  golden-framed  mirrors, 
et  cetra  ?  Ah !  we  are  drawing  near  to  the  Palace. 
Yes,  I  mean  just  all  that  and  more;  it  is  a  haven 
of  rest  and  comfort  and  strange  to  say,  on  the 
Front,  Peace. 

Watch  your  step,  the  recent  rain  has  made  the 
path  rather  slippery.  Now,  over  there  in  the 
front  yard  is  our  washing  outfit.  There  we  boil, 
scrub  and  chase  the  germ.  But  never  mind  this 
beauty  spot,  let  us  enter  the  shack.  That  board 
walk  that  leads  around  the  side  is  a  new  stunt, 
the  boys  made  that  improvement  this  morning. 
You  see,  we  are  working  and  improving  our  home 
most  every  day.  Note  the  curtained  windows  and 
that  potted  plant ;  an  improvised  affair,  I  '11  admit, 
but  works  wonderfully.  There  is  the  polished  brass 
French  dress  helmet  nailed  over  the  door — a  deco- 
ration, I  say. 

Let  me  open  the  door,  friend.  There;  yes,  a 
regular  German  lock,  a  block  affair  with  a  hor- 
izontal handle,  which,  by  the  way,  is  indicative  of 
their  nature:  Running  sideways  and  ending  no- 
where in  particular. 

Hail!  Hail!  Fellows,  let  me  introduce  Uncle 
Sam,  who  hails  from  the  States  and  brings  greet- 
ings from  Col.  Puree.  U.  S.,  meet  the  Irish  Cook. 
There,  I  knew  you'd  take.  Once  of  the  States, 
always.  Meet  Mexican  Pete.  No,  no  relation, 
just  trimmed  it  that  way  in  defiance  of  old  Bill 
Kaiser.    Now,  this  swinging  bunk  on  the  right  as 


THE  PALACE  149 

you  enter  the  Palace  belongs  to  Gib.  0 !  beg  your 
pardon,  Gib,  allow  me  to  introduce  U.  S.  I  thot 
you  were  out.  Yes,  yes  he  was  in  High  when  the 
war  broke  out  and  is  still  going  with  full  steam 
ahead. 

Over  here,  please,  by  the  double  bed.  Meet  Mac. 
Broad  shoulders,  eh  ?  Some  kicks,  I  say.  He  paid 
57  francs  for  them.  And  now  shake  hands  with 
Smiles.  Yes,  that's  his  nature,  and  it's  sunshine 
and  a  good  story  served  hot  any  hour  of  the  day. 
Smiles  is  acquainted  with  the  two-headed  Black 
Eagle  but  he  now  fights  under  the  one  of  Golden 
variety. 

Swede  next.  Born  in  America  and  he's  an 
American.  He  laughs,  and  smiles,  too,  with  a  bit 
of  voice  attached,  and  generally  sunshiny.  In  this 
part  of  the  Palace  the  boys  have  lace  curtains  and 
flowers  and  everything,  but  now  thru  this  door  into 
the  next  room  and  meet  Crum  and  Bart;  two 
Yanks,  and  bed  fellows  they  are.  Right  in  that 
massive  mahogany  bed  they  rest  their  bones  every 
night.  Crum  is  Yankee  but  Bart  was  born  in 
sunny  Italy,  tho  now  he's  one  of  Uncle  Sam's  very 
own. 

Now,  over  on  this  side:  This  two-story  affair 
balances  the  furniture  of  the  room,  don't  you 
think?  Sharp,  Old  Man  Sharp!  come  down  and 
meet  a  friend.  Let  me  advise  you  that  this  fellow 
is  a  pointer;  no,  not  a  dog  but  a  gun-pointer  and 
the  other  day  a  Boche  fell  from  out  the  depths  of 
the  sky  just  because  this  fellow  pointed  him 
out. 


150  THRU  THE  FIEES  OF  FRANCE 

Now,  meet  this  little  fellow  Fuller  who,  after 
each  meal,  is  fuU-er-n  the  next  fellow  and  who  is 
a  wonder.  He  doesn  't  say  much  but  thinks  a  great 
deal — about  home  'n  everything.  Yes,  yes,  a  reg- 
ular guy  is  this  Big  Boy.  He  merely  lengthened 
his  bed  to  allow  for  extra  feet  and  legs. 

And  now,  over  in  this  corner,  done  up  in  marble 
rjnd  white  blankets  is  Caruso  II,  sometimes  Scribby, 
who  sings  like  a  nightingale  and  entertains  to  your 
heart's  content — in  dugouts  when  shot  and  shell  is 
falling,  even. 

Meet  Wayne  of  guitar  fame.  0!  yes,  the  in- 
strument you  now  hold  has  received  much  atten- 
tion, but  then,  he  tells  his  girl  all  about  it.  Let 
us  be  over  with  the  introductions  and  we  will  have 
a  tune  later.  Wayne  plays  Plawaiian  music  that 
sends  chills  up  your  spine.  Meet  Ledger,  men- 
tioned in  the  Journal  and  now  serving  his  country. 
These  pictures  tacked  about  the  wall,  especially 
that  hugging  scene — but  then,  I'll  tell  you  about 
it  later. 

Colonel  Rock,  meet  U.  S.  That  object  behind  the 
bunk  is  not  a  dangerous  weapon;  just  a  walking 
stick — (while  the  Colonel  turns  to  procure  the 
cane) — he's  a  bit  cranky,  old  rather  and  writes  a 
little  to  amuse  himself  but  it's  all  junk  for  I've 
read  his  stuff. 

Allow — Kid  Thompson — allow  me  to  introduce 
one  of  pugilistic  fame.  Yes,  he's  small,  but  O! 
that  wicked  left!  And  now  last  but  not  least: 
Meet  Deacon  Powers.  He  has  seen  service  in  the 
ranks  at  the  Chicago  stock  yards,  also  Coney  Isle 


THE  PALACE  151 

and  can  repeat,  in  one  breath,  the  pedigree  of  his 
Guernsey  cattle  a  mile  long.  Clever,  you  know, 
and  can  sell  anything  or  announce  a  sideshow  to 
perfection.  Give  us  a  handkerchief  sale  Deac, 
we're  thru  the  introductions.  0,  very  well,  if  you 
promise  later. 

And,  now  look  us  over,  U.  S.  Note  how  neat 
and  clean  everything  appears.  The  Skipper  in- 
spects our  Palace  three  or  four  times  weekly  and 
at  each  inspection  his  praise  is  ours.  When  we 
arrived  on  the  spot  there  was  nothing,  just  a  shack 
and  four  bare  walls.  And  all  these  hundreds  of 
articles  we  have  salvaged  from  here,  there  and 
everywhere.  We  started  in  a  small  way  but  each 
day  has  added  to  the  beauty  of  our  surroundings. 
This  card-table  unfolds  thus.  The  green  felt  makes 
an  excellent  playing  board  and  many  an  hour  at 
^'500"  is  spent  over  it.  In  the  front  again,  please, 
where  we  have  engravers,  gun-smiths,  boot-makers 
and  mechanical  experts.  Behold  unique  leather 
carrying  cases,  fancy  canes,  made-over  officer's 
boots,  engraved  shell-cases. 

You  must  go  ?  Allow  me  to  open  the  door.  Why 
hesitate?  0!  you  have  enjoyed  the  visit?  Ah, 
yes,  a  delightful  home.  We're  all  boys  and  we 
belong  to  Uncle  Sam.  We  fight,  too,  but  we  live 
here  in  our  spare  moments. 

Goodbye!  (a  ringing  chorus)  goodbye!  You  are 
welcome  here  at  any  time.  Come  again  and  see  us 
and — the  Palace. 


CHAPTER  36 
A  French  Seventy  Five 

In  the  afternoon  of  our  first  day  in  German- 
made  barracks  number  one  gun-crew  was  ordered 
to  establish  and  begin  excavating  a  gun-pit.  At 
the  edge  of  the  forest  and  across  a  green  meadow 
in  the  open  our  ambitious  crew  began  operations. 

Advice  had  reached  us  that  a  certain  French 
battery,  equipped  with  the  famous  French  seventy 
five,  was  moving  up  to  our  advanced  position  and 
that  we  were  to  share  in  the  manning  of  their 
guns,  i.  e.,  the  French  hold  the  position  two  or 
three  days  a  week,  and  we  the  remainder.  Now 
we  had  been  promised  auto-mounts  of  American 
make  and  so  were  not  particularly  disposed  to 
work  on  French  materiel,  much  less  to  associate 
intimately  with,  and  perhaps  be  dominated  by,  the 
French.  But  Uncle  Sam  was  slow  in  shipping 
equipment  and  we  were  anxious  for  action  so 
Lieutenant  Duffie  accepted  the  plan  which  after- 
wards proved  to  be  very  successful. 

Fresh  dirt  was  soon  flying.  A  hole  12  feet  across 
and  3  feet  deep,  on  the  hill  side,  was  leveled  out 
and  later  a  7  foot  conical  depression  was  sunk  in 
the  center  to  the  depth  of  4  feet. 

Before  the  excavation  had  scarce  begun  a  French 
sergeant,  who  helped  direct  the  work,  insisted  that 
a  protective  camouflage  for  enemy  eyes  be  erected 
immediately.     Whereupon  we    planted    4    posts, 


A   FRENCH   SEVENTY-FIVE  153 

nailed  on  the  cross  beams,  and  stretched  the  painted 
burlap  on  chicken  wire  over  the  frame  work,  tack- 
ing down  the  ends.  It  was  over  in  a  wink  and 
our  French  friend  marveled  at  seeing  some  Yankee 
pep  in  action.  Under  this  camouflage  we  worked 
unobserved. 

When  the  boys  returned  to  camp  at  sundown 
with  picks  and  shovels  over  their  shoulders  it  was 
generally  agreed  that  a  good  half  day's  work  had 
been  accomplished.  Next  morning  Sgt.  Hisey's 
crew  was  on  deck  and  began  placing  the  founda- 
tion of  the  semi-fixed  75  millimetre  French  anti- 
aircraft gun  which  had  arrived  the  night  before. 

First,  the  circular  running  board  was  adjusted, 
according  to  the  level,  around  the  outer  rim  of 
the  inner  conical  depression.  A  receiving  standard 
was  placed  in  the  bottom  of  the 'cone  and  slanting 
struts  from  the  running  board  to  the  receiving 
standard  were  bolted  into  place.  Two  heavy 
wings  were  then  carefully  and  laboriously  dragged 
into  place  by  all  hands  available,  and  bolted  . 

This  accomplished,  the  rifle  was  wheeled  into  a 
forward  position  and,  with  the  assistance  of  a 
special  frame  work  and  ropes,  was  hoisted  into  the 
receiving  trunnions,  then  capped. 

Of  course  the  French  sergeant,  whom  the  boys 
argued  ought  to  be  wearing  knickerbockers,  di- 
rected the  job  with  the  usual  arm  and  shoulder 
exercises  amid  spasmodic  and  loutish  gesticula- 
tions. 

The  gun  proper  being  in  position  it  remained 
for  us  to  place  and  adjust  the  vertical  and  lateral 


154  THRU  THE  FIRES  OF  FRANCE 

telescopes,  the  vertical  and  lateral  deflection  set- 
ters, range  reader  and  then  test  the  azmuth  of 
position.  Sgt.  C.  C.  Ledgerton,  ex-top  and  hard 
guy,  was  an  expert  in  mathematics  so  with  his 
assistance  the  complicated  and  combined  range 
drum  and  vertical  deflection  setter  mechanism  was 
put  right,  in  this  manner:  First,  the  gun  was 
elevated  to  forty-five  degrees  according  to  the  tri- 
angular level,  then  a  level,  placed  upon  a  re- 
ceiving surface  of  the  arm  extending  from  the 
axle  of  the  piece  to  the  drum  and  setter,  marked 
the  horizontal  position  and  the  two  parts  were  held 
in  co-ordination  while  bolts  and  nuts  were  ad- 
justed. 

To  adjust  the  telescopes  the  gun  was  pointed  at 
a  distant  church  steeple  with  the  aid  of  the  peep- 
sights  on  the  gun'  barrel  and  a  good  eye,  and  then 
the  telescopes  were  directed  to  the  same  object  and 
clamped. 

The  camouflage  was  now  rearranged,  slight  ex- 
cavations made  for  shell  cases  and  tool  boxes,  odds 
and  ends  completed  and  behold !  a  man-made  mon- 
ster with  a  long  jaw  and  an  ugly  bark  ready  for 
action. 

Meanwhile  Sgt.  Daniel  and  Radio  Sgt.  Ward 
had  supervised  and  installed  the  range  section  ap- 
paratus some  forty  feet  to  the  left  of  the  gun-pit. 
Telephonic  communication  had  been  established  be- 
tween the  out-post,  a  mile  away,  and  the  range 
station,  and  then  with  the  gun-pit.  The  reader 
will  understand  the  function  of  the  out-post  by 
this   example:   A  plane   is  spotted    by    the    DP 


A    FRENCH    SEVENTY-FIVE  155 

(distant  post)  ;  the  spotter  phones  the  information 
to  the  spotter  at  the  gun  position;  the  two  ob- 
servers then  track  the  same  plane  by  means  of 
special  instruments.  Now  draw  an  imaginary  line 
from  each  post  to  the  plane  and  a  line  between 
the  posts  and  you  have  a  triangle.  The  distance 
between  the  two  posts  or  base  line  being  of  a  known 
quantity  the  angles  can  be  computed  and  thus  the 
altitude  of  the  flying  target  is  trigonometrically 
calculated. 

We  used  the  string  altimeter  tho  Sgt.  Hoffman 
would  occasionally  try  his  luck  on  the  tachyscope. 
The  real  value  of  the  tachyscope  was  in  finding 
engine  speed  of  target  or  speed  and  direction  of 
wind.  Here  again  the  Brock  double  sight  seemed 
superior  to  the  tachyscope  for  angular  speed. 

And  so  the  whole  catalogue  of  anti-aircraft  in- 
struments was  in  a  constant  state  of  evolution. 
One  instrument  of  today  would  be  replaced  by  a 
superior  one  of  tomorrow.  Back  at  Fort  de  Stains 
our  Battery  had  drilled  on  the  finest  struments  the 
market  could  produce  but  now  with  the  semi-fixed 
French  battery  which  Lieut.  Duffie  had  affiliated 
with  we  used  the  available  instruments  and  made 
the  most  of  the  situation. 

The  range  section  was  composed  of  the  following 
men:  Two  out-post  observers;  two  gun  position 
observers;  two  tachyscope  readers;  two  telemeter 
readers;  one  spotter;  one  telephone  operator;  one 
range  commander;  and  the  Battery  Commander. 
The  range  section  supplied  the  following  data  to 
the  gun  crew :  Enemy  or  allied  plane ;  azmuth  and 


156  THRU  THE  FIRES  OF  FRANCE 

angle  of  site ;  range ;  altitude ;  speed  and  direction 
of  target;  speed  and  direction  of  wind;  angle  of 
approach.  The  range  or  distance  of  a  target  was 
called  off  by  the  telemeter  reader  who,  knowing  the 
altitude,  could  adjust  and  read  his  graduated  in- 
strument. 

The  angle  of  approach  always  was  a  puzzle  for 
us  and  an  equation  to  be  guarded,  particularly 
since  our  flying  enemy  planes  always  insisted  on 
turning,  sidetracking  and  looping  into  all  sorts  of 
directions  and  keeping  us  in  a  constant  stew. 

About  25  men  are  required  to  man  and  operate 
an  anti-aircraft  gun.  This  includes  the  range  sec- 
tion or  source  of  data,  the  gun  crew  proper  and 
the  machine  gun  men  whose  duty  it  is  to  protect 
the  pit  from  low-flowing  planes.  Later,  when  a 
second  gun  was  placed,  it  required  nearly  twice 
the  number  and  so  our  Battery  of  a  hundred  men 
was  divided  and  alternately  worked  in  the  field 
and  remained  in  camp. 

Now,  before  taking  up  further  anti-air6raft 
technique,  let  us  consider  a  day  at  the  gun-pit. 
The  following  chapter  is  also  a  story  copied  from 
an  old  letter.  It  was  written  in  the  pit  between 
acts  and  now  as  I  re-write  it  I  can  almost  smell 
the  powder,  and  hear  the  noise  of  our  pet  mon- 
ster. 


CHAPTER  37 
A  Day  at  the  Gun  Pit 

''Time  to  get  out,  fellows."  Such  are  the  first 
words  of  the  day  uttered  by  the  guard.  A  rude 
awakening,  rather,  but  necessary.  Sleepily  the 
gun-crew  crawls  from  out  their  respective  bunks 
and  in  the  semi-darkness  don  their  military  attire. 
It 's  chilly  out  and  clear,  a  good  indication  that  the 
Boche  will  be  out  early  scouting  the  skys  and  look- 
ing for  battle. 

A  slight  breakfast  of  coffee,  sugar  and  bread 
is  served  in  the  kitchen,  a  sort  of  an  introduction 
to  a  later  breakfast.  ''Eats''  over  the  crew  fall 
in,  right  face,  let's  go,  and  they're  off  to  the  gun- 
pit. 

Adown  the  old  familiar  path  they  march,  in 
double  column,  and  a  few  minutes  later  the  camp 
is  seen  to  fade  in  the  dimness  of  early  morn. 
Winding  in  and  out  the  stately  oaks,  avoiding 
a  small  clump  of  brush  here  and  circling  a  hollow 
there,  the  path  leads  on  thru  the  forest,  out  thru 
a  wide  peaceful  meadow  and  over  a  slight  knoll. 

The  battery  is  located  in  the  open  but  is  cleverly 
camouflaged.  Strangers  approaching  the  pit  are 
surprised  to  find  an  innocent  clump  of  brush  sud- 
denly transform  itself  into  a  pit  containing  a 
vicious  man-made  animal,  possessing  a  long  jaw 
and  an  ugly  bark. 


158  THRU  THE  FIRES  OF  FRANCE 

The  first  period  in  the  pit  is  spent  in  keeping 
warm.  Perhaps  an  enemy  visitor  looms  up  in  the 
sky  ahead;  perhaps  a  whole  squadrilla.  If  so  the 
crew  fly  to  their  respective  posts,  rush  thru  data 
and  adjust  for  firing. 

Breakfast  time  has  arrived  and  another  crew  is 
coming  up  the  path  to  relieve  the  early  risers.  A 
brisk  walk  back  to  camp  developes  into  a  run  and 
''run,  you  mess-hounds!"  is  shouttd,  the  echo  re- 
bounding from  the  distant  kitchen  as  the  boys  rush 
for  mess-tins.  Yes,  it's  double  time  and  a  right 
hungry  bunch  they  are;  appetites  more  powerful 
than  Niagara. 

**Eats"  over,  mess-tins  washed,  beds  made,  floors 
swept,  the  crew  once  more  fall  in,  right  face,  let's 
go,  and  march  down  the  winding .  path,  out  over 
the  meadow  and  up  the  knoll  to  the  gun-pit. 

"Boys,  let's  make  her  shine,"  the  gun  com- 
mander repeats,  and  in  less  time  than  it  takes  to 
wink  the  cotton  waste  is  flying  to  and  fro  on  brass 
instruments,  brooms  gather  stray  debris,  oil  cans 
are  jingling  about  the  iron  work  feeding  the 
hungry  joints  of  the  fierce  monster,  and  shell  cases 
are  fitted  and  greased.  A  test  of  instruments  and 
materiel  is  made  and  finally  the  entire  crew  re- 
port from  their  respective  stations  if  ''in  order." 

The  range  section,  stationed  several  yards  to  the 
left,  is  doing  likewise  and  telephonic  communica- 
tion completes  the  tests.  The  crew  and  gun  being 
in  order  the  commanding  officer  makes  his  daily 
round  of  inspection.  Faults  are  corrected,  sug- 
gestions are  made  and  shop  talk  in  general  is  ex- 
changed. 


A  DAY  AT  THE  GUN  PIT  159 

All  is  ready  for  action.  A  target  may  appear 
early  and  again  all  may  remain  quiet  for  hours; 
the  weather  decides.  On  a  clear  day  there  is  great 
activity,  on  a  cloudy  day  the  men  are  idle.  They 
read  whole  volumes  even,  or  skim  over  old  mag- 
azines, play  ''500,"  et  cetera.  But  the  men  are 
ever  alert,  ready  for  the  signal  which  calls  for 
action. 

"Attention!  Target  BC  front,"  comes  ringing 
over  the  wire.    ''Azmuth  340°,  angle  of  site  10°". 

' '  Traverse  the  gun  to  the  right, ' '  repeats  the  gun 
commander. 

''There  he  goes,"  one  member  of  eagle-eye  fame 
calls  out,  and  then  before  it  takes  time  to  count 
ten  all  is  ready  and, 

"On  target!"  shouts  the  pointers. 

' '  In  range  ! ' '  calls  the  telemeter  reader. 

"Commence  firing!"  repeats  the  commanding 
officer. 

The  four  lines  of  communication  ring  with  data : 
"azmuth  342°;  angle  of  site  15°;  speed  45;  alti- 
tude 3000;  going  minus  45°;  altitude  3500  "— 
comes  in  quick  succession. 

"Range  6000!"  shouts  the  telemeter  reader. 
The  loader  has  heard  the  command  "commence 
firing,"  and  forthwith  receives  a  shell  from  the 
fuse  cutter's  relay er  and  with  dextrous  quickness 
rams  it  into  the  breech,  closing  the  recess  with  a 
clang.  The  lanyard  is  pulled  by  the  firer  and 
BANG!  It's  a  wicked,  deafening,  indescribable, 
twanging  howl,  a  monstrous  growl  more  powerful 
than  the  fiercest  call  of  a  South  African  lion. 


160  THRU  THE  FIRES  OF  FRANCE 

BLOU-A-NG!  She  speaks  again  and  amid  the 
roar  continues  the  firing  data:  "Coming  plus  45° ; 
plane  turning;  going  minus  75°;  change  fuse; 
30/55;  range  7000." 

Whirl-i-ez-ez-ez  out  into  space  the  timed  ex- 
plosive travels  with  ' '  Fritz ' '  written  on  every  shell. 
The  fuse  has  been  cut  for  7000  and  that  very  range 
she  explodes,  sending  hot  steel  in  every  direction. 
Should  Fritzie  happen  near — why — it's  a  hurried 
trip  earthward  for  him,  and  a  promise  of  flowers 
later.  The  powerful  ripping  destructive  agent 
hurled  into  silken  wings  and  human  flesh  has  but 
one  result.  A  nasty  business  to  contemplate,  but 
war  is  war  and  the  enemy  must  be  conquered. 

The  moth  that  lingers  too  near  the  flame  is 
burnt;  and  so  'tis  thus  that  Fritz  often  comes  to 
a  bitter  end. 

*     *     #     *     * 

On  the  afternoon  of  the  24th  (Sept.),  the  7th 
day  in  Nonsard  woods,  number  one  gun-crew  under 
command  of  Lieut.  Duffie  went  into  action.  We 
spotted,  tracked  and  fired  into  a  group  of  seven 
Fokkers  and  as  luck  would  have  it  we  winged  a 
plane.     It  was  our  first  victim. 

The  bird-man  fell  from  a  dizzy  height  and  it  was 
later  at  camp  that  we  talked  things  over  and  real- 
ized the  import  of  the  matter.  Perhaps  this  avia- 
tor's wife  or  sweetheart  was  home  tonight  wait- 
ing his  return.  Perhaps  a  child  was  calling — 
' '  daddy. ' '  Till  now  we  had  been  silent  spectators, 
not  a  life  had  we  snuffed  out,  but  now,  now  we 
were  guilty  of  murder.    With  our  own  hands  we 


A  DAT  AT  THE  GUN  PIT  Ifll 

manipulated  a  death-dealing  machine  and  with 
skill  in  action  had  found  the  mark.  But  why 
argue — it  was  war  and  you  know,  crime  ceases 
to  be  a  crime  in  warfare. 


CHAPTER  38 
Types  of  Planes 

Our  first  victim  was  flying  a  Fokker,  a  plane 
which  army  men  are  generally  agreed  upon  as 
being  king  of  the  air.  It  is  a  very  fast  traveler, 
a  good  fighting  plane  and  is  a  favorite  among  the 
German  Aces.  Its  general  appearance  at  a  distance 
is  hawk-like,  and  our  spotters  never  failed  to  pick 
up  a  Fokker  however  distant  the  moving  target 
or  hazy  the  atmosphere. 

Our  second  victim  was  using  a  Rumpler.  Per- 
haps this  air-machine  is  second  in  popularity  with 
the  flying  Dutchmen.  These  two  types  were  used 
almost  exclusively  in  our  sector.  Once  or  twice 
we  spotted  an  Albatross  Dili  and  the  L.  V.  G. 
Night  bombing  was  carried  out  by  the  Giant  Gotha, 
and  this  machine,  prior  to  the  advent  of  the  super- 
giant  Handley-Page,  was  preponderant  in  size  and 
poignant  with  possibilities. 

While  training  at  Fort  de  Stains  we  visited  the 
La  Bourge  aviation  field  several  times  and  on  these 
occasions  we  studied  the  various  Allied  planes  in- 
timately. The  Spad  is  the  Frenchman's  favorite. 
Next  is  the  Neuport.  Both  are  fighters.  The  Eng- 
lish Sopwith  was  quite  a  favorite  with  Thomas 
Atkin  as  was  also  the  Bristol. 

The  A.  R.  (army  reconnaissance),  Caudron  and 
Breguet  are  larger  machines  tho  all  comparatively 
unused  in  action.  Another  giant  was  the  Letord, 
used  for  night  bombing.     When  this   machine    is 


TYPES  OF  PLANES  163 

seen  flying  low  it  truly  reminds  one  of  a  battle 
plane  as  described  by  fanciful  artists.  Its  slow 
movement  and  solid  features  make  it  appear  devoid 
of  wings.  For  such  a  mass  of  iron  and  wood  to 
move  thru  the  air  is  almost  uncanny,  to  say  the 
least,  and  reminds  one  of  receptive  fairy  tales  and 
ancient  miracles  wrought  by  superior  beings,  mas- 
ters of  levitation. 

The  odd-looking  Voison  with  its  open  fuselage 
and  prominent  nose  was  always  a  source  of  amuse- 
ment. The  Farnam  was  another  and  both  were 
used  for  training  only,  I  believe. 

While  in  active  service  at  the  Front  we  saw  but 
two  types  of  Allied  day-planes  generally  used — the 
Spad  and  De  Haviland,  the  last  named  being  used 
almost  exclusively  by  the  Americans. 

On  rare  occasions  we  spotted  an  Allied  stranger. 
For  instance,  one  day  word  came  over  the  wire  that 
a  Maroconi  Triplane,  bimotor,  was  coming  over  our 
sector  and  a  warning  not  to  disturb  its  flight.  It 
was  further  announced  that  the  plane  was  on  its 
way  to  Berlin  to  drop  a  load  of  propaganda  over 
that  city.  Sure  enough  a  half  hour  later  this 
strange  ''bird,"  soaring  high,  made  its  appear- 
ance and  flew  directly  over  our  position. 

For  identification  of  planes  the  following  terms 
were  used:  Stagger,  reverse  stagger,  overhang, 
dihedral,  cutback,  sweepback,  fuselage,  struts,  and 
bimotor.  It  would  require  a  page  or  two  to  define 
these  terms  and  this,  I  fear,  would  make  dry  read- 
ing, so  I  will  hurry  on  with  my  story. 


CHAPTER  39 
Human  Wasps 

In  describing  our  first  victim,  felled  from  a 
dizzy  height,  I  rushed  over  the  ground  quickly, 
for  I  fain  would  not  dwell  upon  the  murder  of 
another  or  gloat  over  a  victory. 

But  now  I  call  your  attention  to  a  flock  of 
Boche,  seven  in  number.  They  are  flying  high  over 
our  sector,  mere  specks  as  it  were,  but  our  instru- 
ments are  working  and  accurate  data  is  gained  for 
firing.  They  come  in  battle  formation,  these  human 
wasps,  and  are  prepared  to  sting.  They  manoeuvre, 
they  dart  about  in  the  depths  of  the  sky,  and  one 
is  reminded  of  gold  fish  performing  tactics  in  a 
parlor  aquarium. 

The  wasps  are  now  within  range,  sinking,  fall- 
ing, side-slipping.  Sgt.  Pearson's  gun-crew  fire. 
The  bursting  shells  in  their  midst  impel  keen 
manoeuvring. 

The  on-coming  squadrilla  open  up  with  a  mur- 
derous rat-tat-tat.  Machine  gun  companies  nearby 
return  the  fire  and  the  noise  is  terrific.  Rat-tat-tat 
repeated  in  rapid  succession  comes  crashing  thru 
the  air. 

There  is  trouble  in  the  pit — a  shell  case  jams 
in  the  breach  and  Sgt.  Pearson  is  almost  frantic 
with  excitement.  Sgt.  Miller's  machine  gun  crew 
prepare  for  action.  The  impetuous  Boche  drop 
within  a  few  yards  of  the  terrain,  a  kilometer  over 


HUMAN  WASPS  165 

the  way  and  now  Sgt.  Miller  opens  wide  his  double 
Lewis. 

Sgt.  Pearson  has  ejected  the  jammed  shell  case 
but  a  new  difficulty  has  arisen.  "Targets  too  low 
for  tracking,"  is  the  verdict  from  the  range  sec- 
tion. Pearson  directs  his  crew  to  fire  point  blank. 
Are  the  seven  wasps  sweeping  the  landscape  of 
human  life?  They  are.  The  machine  guns  sta- 
tioned in  the  forest  yonder  strive  desperately  to 
shield  a  moving  column  of  cavalry,  the  object  of 
contention,  and  Sgt.  Pearson's  crew  work  with 
abated  breath. 

And  now  the  white  puffs  above  the  tree  tops 
split  and  rend  the  air  and  the  concussion  rocks  the 
planes  in  its  furor. 

Number  one  gun-crew  had  long  since  been 
aroused  from  peaceful  meditations  and  we  stand  in 
a  clearing  of  the  forest  near  our  barracks  watching 
the  contest.  During  the  interval  of  Sgt.  Pearson's 
failure  to  break  up  the  filibusters  we  shout  and 
curse  at  the  ill-luck  of  crew  No.  2,  and  wonder  at 
their  stupidity. 

But  now  we  hear  new  reports  and  see  the  white 
puffs  above  the  tree  tops.  The  land  defense  bark 
feverishly — rat-tat-tat,  rat-tat-tat.  The  anti-air- 
craft gun  continues  to  speak  on  the  fourth  second. 

The  squadrilla  is  seen  to  flinch;  they  scatter. 
They  disperse  in  all  directions  and  a  new  wave  of 
machine  gun  rattle  is  awakened.  Damage  had 
been  wrought  in  Allied  territory;  was  it  fair  to 
allow  a  complete  escape  ?  We  watch  the  seven  fad- 
ing planes  cross  the  line.    Looking  into  each  other's 


166  THRU  THE  FIRES  OF  FRANCE 

long"  drawn  out  faces  we  slowly  but  grudgingly 
admit  defeat. 

Had  the  gun-crew  been  the  object  of  attack 
every  man  would  have  been  wiped  out,  but  it 
was^nt  and  our  men  live  to  tell  the  tale.  Sgt. 
Miller  received  a  citation  for  gunnery  on  this  occa- 
sion and  I  have  no  doubt  his  crew  (Brazie-Fears- 
Dunbar-Willian)  were  prime  factors  in  deciding 
for  the  Boche  a  hasty  get-away.  The  amount  of 
damage  inflicted  by  the  Hun  on  this  occasion  I 
never  discovered,  but  it  was  rumored  that  the  loss 
of  life  was  considerable. 

In  the  evening  when  Sgt.  Pearson  and  crew  re- 
turned to  camp  there  was  much  chatter  and  petty 
talk  exchanged  between  the  gun-crews.  Eivalry 
w^as  keen,  especially  since  No.  1  crew  was  credited 
with  a  victory. 

**Scribby,"  fusecutter  for  crew  No.  1,  allowed 
that  McQuiston,  fusecutter  for  crew  No.  2,  was 
just  as  good  a  man  as  he.  ''Lead''  Needham, 
Pearson 's  prize  loader,  had  them  all  beat,  but  Rear 
was  rotten  on  the  telescope.  And  so-and-so  waa 
punk  or  so-and-so  was  par  excellence. 

The  usual  clash  of  opinion  soon  produced  a  few 
good  stump  speakers.  A  group  would  gather  about 
in  general  conversation,  quiet  at  first,  and  then  as 
a  natural  result  of  gossip  someone  would  drop  a 
bomb  right  in  the  midst  of  earnest  speakers.  Im- 
mediately would  follow  a  storm  of  protest.  Cres- 
cendo-like the  volume  of  gutteral  sound  would  in- 
crease and  lo !  from  out  the  seething  mass  steps  a 
man — a  prophet  of  the  new  age  and  he  remarks 


HUMAN  WASPS  167 

that  the  bomb  story  is  right  and  just,  furthermore 
that  he  himself  knew  it  to  be  positively  a  fact. 

Such  was  Gulick,  East,  Sterne,  Woolaver,  Mc- 
Henry,  Jester,  Emerick.  Was  it  the  love  of  argu- 
ment that  prompted  the  martyr  in  his  debates? 

Corporal  Blanky  used  to  "knock  'em  dead"  with 
his  pet  hobby :  "  Is  a  Marine  a  superior  soldier  ? ' ' 
For  hours  Blanky  would  hold  forth,  first  in  dig- 
nity, later  with  crisp  tongue-twisters,  and  end  in 
boiling  rage.  "Frog"  Foix  and  "Heinie"  Steiler 
were  both  especially  fond  of  getting  Barney's 
* '  nanny. ' ' 

Tom  Chase,  walking  encyclopedia,  furnished  the 
Battery  with  much  information.  So  certain  was 
Tom  of  his  statements  that  he  was  not  prone  to 
argue.  He  was  a  type  all  his  own  and  later  at  the 
signing  of  the  armistice  Tom  told  the  boys  that, 
"Ilavis  signed  the  armifist  and  now  the  proUy- 
jectiles  were  no  longer  shot  in  the  Ar-gone-on  for- 
est." Chase  got  the  idea  from  a  Havis  press  no- 
tice and  attempted  to  give  it  in  his  own  language. 

Little  Fuller,  the  mascot  of  Battery  B,  had  abso- 
lutely nothing  to  say.  Sharp,  Pelbrough,  Willian, 
Lyon  and  Hoslett  were  all  members  of  the  "silent 
club,"  having  no  doubt  taken  their  eternal  vows 
at  birth. 


CHAPTER  40 
Modern  Apartments 

American  genius  went  to  work  the  day  of  our 
arrival  in  Nonsard  woods  and  not  a  day  passed 
without  some  improvement  being  made.  Soon  our 
shacks  became  real  homelike  and  modern  in  every 
way.  Steger,  ex-cook  and  plumber,  installed  an 
excellent  shower  bath.  Upon  a  recent  battlefield 
Steger  found  a  camouflage  tank,  a  large  frame- 
work resting  on  wheels,  which  was  drawn  to  camp 
and  used  for  the  bath-house.  A  box  of  fittings, 
several  lengths  of  pipe,  an  out-door  washing 
boiler  and  stove,  a  hugh  wine  tank — all  entered 
into  the  construction  of  our  most  excellent  and  ac- 
ceptable shower.  The  main  pipeline  which  sup- 
plied water  to  the  kitchen  was  tapped.  A  good 
wood  fire  once  started  heated  water  for  an  entire 
crew  and  the  boys  often  splashed  about  in  all  their 
glory. 

What  a  contrast  it  was  to  the  little  stream  over 
in  the  meadow  where  we  had  bathed  the  first  days 
in  camp.  Sgt.  Louis  had  contracted  a  severe  cold 
in  exposing  himself  to  the  chill  autumn  weather 
and  others  absolutely  refused  to  chance  the  dip. 

For  this  new  shower  we  were  willing  to  forgive 
Steger  all  the  misery  he  had  caused  us  while  work- 
ing under  him  at  K.  P.  To  peel  a  sack  of  spuds, 
wash  a  dozen  greasy  pans,  and  keep  the  fire  going 
all  day  was  work  enough.  Ask  any  ex-soldier.  But 
Steger  was  not  content  and  carried  a  perpetual 
growl  for  the  K.  P.'s  benefit.     The  Battery  Com- 


MODEKN  APARTMENTS  lOd 

mander  reduced  him  to  a  private  and  after  that 
Steger  braced  up;  so  much  so  that  he  put  in  the 
shower  of  his  own  volition,  built  a  new  shack  for 
Lieut.  Duffie  and  made  himself  useful  generally. 

We  added  to  our  comforts  very  materially  a 
short  time  later.  The  story  is  a  short  one  and  it 
is  this:  The  Keystone  Division  camped  near  us 
a  week,  then  moved  on.  Upon  their  unguarded 
divisional  supply  house  our  boys  descended  and 
returned  with  foodstuffs  valued  at  hundred  of  dol- 
lars. Sardines,  salmon,  beans,  crackers,  white 
sugar,  brown  sugar,  coffee,  English  biscuit,  and 
other  eatable  things  were  left  behind  because  of 
shortage  in  truck  space.  The  divisional  supply 
officer  had  failed  to  place  a  guard  over  the  price- 
less foodstuff's  and  our  scouts  discovered  the  fact. 
When  Lieut.  Duffie  saw  the  situation  he  ordered 
the  kitchen  force  to  haul  back  to  camp  as  much 
food  as  possible,  but  it  was  too  late  to  stay  the 
pillage  of  youthful  wreckers  who  had  cut  open 
the  reserve  rations  in  their  mad  rush  for  the  small 
package  of  cigarettes  and  sack  of  sugar  which 
Uncle  Sam  had  so  temptingly  placed  in  each  re- 
serve can. 

Next  day  an  order  was  posted  on  the  bulletin 
board  commanding  every  private  to  turn  his  stock 
into  the  kitchen,  so  in  order  to  conceal  the  loot 
the  boys  ingeniously  hid  their  groceries  in  divers 
places.  Crew  No.  1  was  not  to  be  outdone  on  this 
occasion.  The  boys  removed  several  boards  from 
the  floor,  excavated  a  square  hole  and  then,  after 
pulling  the  nails,  replaced  the  boards.    The  hiding 


170  THRU  THE  FIRES  OF  FRANCE 

place  proved  a  success  and  for  several  weeks  the 
boys  indulged  in  midnight  suppers, 

Bibby's  squad  salvaged  a  piano.  ''Vic''  Ledger- 
ton  found  a  large  mahogany  bed,  a  card  table  worth 
several  hundred  francs,  a  fine  gold-framed  mir- 
ror and  several  ornamental  vases.  Others  brot  to 
camp  articles  found  in  their  travels  about  the 
neighborhood. 

So  our  barracks  was  added  to  from  day  to  day. 
The  kitchen  was  overhauled,  the  Top's  office  was 
refurnished,  carpeted  and  curtained,  a  new  officers' 
quarters  built,  board  walks  placed,  fences  repaired, 
and  finally,  a  large  dining  room  was  erected. 

And  so  the  work  went  on  much  the  same  as  an 
ant-hill.  "Human  ants"  scoured  the  country 
about  and  brot  back  to  the  "hill"  every  movable 
article,  valuable  or  otherwise. 

It  was  always  a  source  of  pleasure  to  return  to 
our  apartments  after  a  busy  day  at  the  pit.  In  a 
very  up-to-date  manner  Collins  would  make  brown 
sugar  candy,  sugared  buns,  and  brew  a  little  cof- 
fee while  we  played  at  500  over  a  costly  card  table. 

Over  at  Bibby's  shack  they  did  the  same,  except 
style.  A  solidified  alcohol  chaffing  dish,  resting 
on  the  piano,  was  used ;  surely  this  was  the  height 
of  fashion.  But  there  was  this  objection  to  Bib- 
by's bunk-house:  Everyone  smoked.  Before  the 
evening  had  run  its  course  you  could  cut  the  smoke 
so  thick  was  it,  and  all  windows  and  doors  being 
closed  to  retain  the  heat  and  prevent  a  stray  beam 
of  light  escaping,  there  was  no  outlet.  Conse- 
quently the  boys'  clothing  was  literally  saturated 
in  nicotine. 


CHAPTER  41 

Three  Letters 

October  6th. 

There  is  something  in  the  wind;  something  is 
wrong  with  Germany.  A  certain  report  direct  from 
Headquarters  w^as  passed  along  the  line  and,  if 
true,  why — the  war  is  over.  It  is  the  beginning  of 
the  end.  Perhaps  when  you  receive  these  lines 
a  substantial  peace  will  already  have  been  gained. 
If  not  peace,  near-peace  and  I  know  what  this 
mens  to  you  at  home,  dear.  We  cannot  quite  com- 
prehend this  new  departure;  we  who  are  fighting 
and  know  not  of  peace.  We  are  sceptical.  But 
0!  is  it  really  true  that  peace  is  near?  Can  you 
understand  what  it  means  to  the  doughboys  and 
artillerymen  all  along  the  line?  I  dare  not  dwell 
too  long  on  the  subject;  it  will  blind  us  in  our 
work  and  duties.  I  must  wait  for  a  confirmation 
of  what  has  been  received. 

It  is  growing  late.  The  boys  have  been  wildly 
discussing  our  home-coming  and  have  already  con- 
structed an  impossible  hypotheses,  even;  all  be- 
cause of  the  slight  bit  of  news  which  came  over 
the  wire  this  p.  m. :  '  *  Germany  ready  to  sign  an 
armistice. ' ' 

October  20th. 

This  morning  was  reveille  as  usual ;  6 :30.  Break- 
fast at  7 :00  This  being  No.  1  gun-crew 's  fatigue 
day  we  were  out  early  to  gather  and  cut  wood  for 
the  kitchen.    The  continuous  rain  interfered  with 


172  THRU  THE  FIRES  OF  FRANCE 

other  duties  and  so,  after  an  hour's  work  wielding 
ax  and  swinging  saw,  we  retired  to  the  Palace. 
Which  was  well,  for  at  10  a.  m. — what? 

In  a  wild  commotion  chairs  went  flying  across 
the  room.  Other  movable  articles  stirred  from 
their  accustomed  places.  A  clothes  line  and 
fresh  washing  went  dragging  across  the  muddy 
floor.  Cheers — and  howling — and  screeching — and, 
what's  up?    Well,  the  secret  is  out — MAIL. 

The  crowd  gathers  quickly,  breathless,  hatless, 
and  with  no  concern  for  rain — or  shine.  It 's  mail, 
that's  all,  and  all  eyes  are  centered  upon  the  mail- 
man. Out  of  the  scuffle  I  emerged  with  a  handful, 
all  triumphant  and  trembling.  Mail.  Was  it  a 
dream?  No,  it  was  real.  This  very  moment  I 
have  pinched  myself.  Yes,  I  am  awake  and  mail 
was  distributed  this  every  morning  at  10.  It  is 
now  6 :30. 

And  so  having  emerged  from  the  throng  I 
slipped  back  to  my  bunk.  I  counted,  I  hesitated. 
Six  long  weeks  without  mail!  Why  did  Uncle 
Sam  torture  us  thus?  Fourteen  letters,  ten  from 
you,  my  darling  wife,  and  four  from  the  folks. 

Gibson  received  thirty-one.  Isn't  that  a  hand- 
ful? 

I  would  clear  away  the  singles  first.  Then  I 
fingered  the  precious  ten.  I  counted  them  and 
then — recounted  them;  and  then  placed  them,  un- 
opened, in  my  left  shirt  pocket. 

Out  from  my  shelf  came  a  fresh  suit  of  under- 
wear, a  pair  of  white  sox,  towel  and  soap.  The 
bath  was  refreshing  and  the  letters  and  I  returned 


THREE  LETTERS  173 

to  the  bunk.  With  shoes  removed  I  sat  Yogi  fash- 
ion upon  my  blue  blanket.  I  unbuttoned  my  shirt 
pocket  and  relieved  my  heart  of  its  pressure.  Ten 
letters.  The  dates  were  scattered  but  soon  that  was 
adjusted.  With  letter  opener  in  hand  I  listened 
to  the  rain ;  why  should  I  rush  to  open  the  precious 
ten  after  six  long  weeks  of  waiting? 

I  sat  Yogi  fashion  and  the  rain  came  pat-pat-er- 
ing.  It  seemed  to  be  a  song  filled  with  ancient 
memories.  As  it  is  one  of  my  greatest  pleasures 
to  read  while  music  fills  the  air,  I  opened  the  let- 
ters— pat-pat-er-ing — and  read. 
October  28th. 

This  afternoon  a  Boche,  flying  very  high,  crost 
our  lines,  braved  the  anti-aircraft  fire  and  emptied 
a  load  of  propaganda.  The  glistening  sheets  float- 
ing upon  a  gentle  breeze  seemed  to  tarry  in  the 
downward  flight.  We  were  on  the  gun  at  the  time 
and  the  little  beggars  fell  in  our  midst.  I  enclose 
a  copy: 

' '  The  German  People  Offer  Peace 
The  New  German  democratic  government  has  this 

programme: 
'The  Will  of  the  People  is  the  Highest  Law' 
The    German   people   wants   quickly   to   end   the 

slaughter 
The  New  German  popular  government  therefore 

has  offered  an  Armistice 
And  had  declared  itself  ready  for 

Peace 
on  the  basis  of  justice  and  reconciliation  of  na- 
tions. 


174  THEU  THE  FIRES  OF  FRANCE 

It  is  the  will  of  the  German  people  that  it  should 
live  in  peace  with  all  peoples,  honestly  and  loyally. 
What  has  the  New  German  popular  government 
done  so  far  to  put  into  practice  the  will  of  the 
people  and  to  prove  its  good  and  upright  intentions? 

(a)  The  New  German  government  has  accepted  all 
the  principles  which  Pres.  Wilson  proclaimed  as  a 
basis  for  a  general  lasting  peace  of  justice  among 
Nations. 

(b)  The  New  German  government  has  solemnly 
declared  its  readiness  to  evacuate  Belgium  and  to 
restore  it. 

(c)  The  New  German  government  is  ready  to  come 
to  an  honest  understanding  with  France  about 

Alsace-Lorraine 

(d)  The  New  German  government  has  restricted 
the  U-boat  war 

No  Passenger  steamers  not 
Carrying  Troops  or  war  material 
will  be  attacked  in  the  future. 

(e)  The  New  German  government  has  declared 
that  it  will  withdraw  all  German  troops  back  over 
the  German  Frontier. 

(f)  The  New  German  government  has  asked  the 
Allied  Governments  to  name  commissioners  to  agree 
upon  the  practical  measures  of  evacuation  of  Bel- 
gium and  France. 

These  are  the  deeds  of  the  New  German  popular 
government. 

Can  these  be  called  mere  words,  or  bluff,  or  pro- 
paganda? 
Who  is  to  blame,  if  an  armistice  is  not  called  now  1 


THBEE  LETTERS  175 

Who  is  to  blame  if  daily,  thousands  of  brave  sol- 
diers needlessly  have  to  shed  their  blood  and  die? 
Who  is  to  blame  if  the  hitherto  undestroyed  towns 
and  villages  of  France  and  Belgium  sink  in  ashes  ? 
Who  is  to  blame,  if  hundreds  of  thousands  of  un- 
happy women  and  children  are  driven  from  their 
homes  to  hunger  and  freeze? 
THE  GERMAN  PEOPLE  OFFERS  ITS  HAND 

FOR  PEACE. 

*     *     *     * 

On  the  reverse  side  is  printed  the  same  in 
French :    Le  peuple  allemand  off  re  la  Paix. 

There  is  unusual  American  artillery  activity  to- 
night which  is,  no  doubt,  the  answer.  Notice  the 
''New  German  government"  (with  the  small  g). 
This  is  so  much  effort  wasted.  Of  course  the  clumsy 
mind  of  the  German  High  Command  imagines  that 
a  sheet  of  printed  matter  will  wreck  the  morale  of 
our  troops.  Every  American  not  only  is  acquainted 
with  causes  and  conditions  of  this  war,  but  also 
receives  exact  and  unadulterated  news  eoncerning 
developments.  For  instance,  Ludendorf  resigns; 
we  knew  this  fact  before  our  paper  reached  us. 

I  tell  you,  it  is  the  unanimous  consent  of  the 
men  who  are  actually  in  battle  that  this  war  shall 
continue  until  unconditional  surrender,  nothing 
less,  shall  be  realized. 

It  is  every  dark  now  and  there  is  intense  artil- 
lery fire  along  the  Front.  But  in  the  Palace  it  is 
quite  comfortable.  There  is  a  fire  in  the  stove 
which  radiates  a  comfortable  heat.  The  boys  are 
reading,  writing,  talking,  and  unusually  quiet.    I 


17«  THRU  THE  FIRES  OF  FRANCE 

am  writing  on  a  smooth  board  which  is  resting 
on  either  side  of  my  boarded  bunk.  An  empty 
hand  grenade  with  rope  wick  burning  gasoline  is 
my  source  of  light. 

I  am  thinking  of  home  and  you,  dear.  Wouldn't 
it  be  wonderful  if  I  could  walk  in  on  you  tonight 
and  talk  with  you  just  five  minutes?  It  would 
be  a  great  privilege. 


CHAPTER  42 
Our  Second  Plane 

On  Friday,  October  18,  at  4  p.  m.  we  were  brot 
to  a  high  pitch  of  excitement  when  a  Rumpler  was 
spotted  by  our  men  sailing  along  just  above  the 
tree  tops.  Without  command  from  Lieutenant 
Brush  we  swung  the  gun  around  and  began  firing 
point  blank.  The  enemy  had  slipped  up  unawares 
and  was  flying  so  low  that  the  range  section  could 
not  furnish  the  required  data.  Let  us  return  to 
the  thrilling  incident. 

The  plane  is  coming  on,  Sgt.  Miller,  the  iron- 
monger, points  his  double  Lewis  in  the  invader's 
face.  What  is  wrong?  A  shell  jams.  Miller  curses 
the  luck  while  we  swing  our  piece.  The  enemy  flies 
over  our  position.  We  can  see  two  men  in  the 
fuselage.  Why  do  they  not  use  the  machine  gun, 
the  barrel  of  which  is  protruding  over  the  edge  of 
the  observer's  pit?  The  plane  is  now  flying  down 
the  field.  Sgt.  Miller  opens  up  at  last  and  tracer 
bullets  make  a  path  to  the  Rumpler. 

We  fire  again.  The  range  is  estimated,  but  the 
explosions  are  deadly  near.  Why  does  not  the 
enemy  land  and  avoid  destruction?  In  another 
moment  we  would  surely  find  the  mark.  McHenry 
shoves  in  the  shells  on  the  fourth  second  and 
Thompson  pulls  the  lanyard  with  repeated  vigor. 
Sgt.  Fleck  is  estimating  the  firing  data,  for  now 
confusion   has   gripped   the   range   section.     The 


178  THRU  THE  FIRES  OF  FRANCE 

plane  turns  and  makes  an  attempt  to  reach  the  line. 
Our  white  puffs  are  telling.  Another  second  and 
the  plane  would  be  blown  to  bits.  Suddenly  the 
pilot  points  the  nose  of  his  plane  downward  forty- 
five  degrees  and  makes  a  hurried  landing  within 
our  lines. 

We  later  learned  that  a  fragment  of  a  bursting 
shell  case  had  pentrated  the  gasoline  feed  and 
forced  the  aviator  to  land.  Two  men  were  cap- 
tured; an  Austrian  Captain  and  a  German  ser- 
geant. They  had  ascended  over  their  lines  an  hour 
before  to  observe  their  own  camouflaged  positions 
and  had  lost  their  way.  Once  estray  they  groped 
about  for  guidance,  but  instead  of  friendly  advice 
they  were  accorded  a  hearty  reception  and  a 
shower  of  steel. 

We  never  knew  why  the  observer  refused  to  use 
his  deadly  machine  gun.  Sgt.  Miller's  accident 
and  our  delay  in  swinging  the  gun  gave  the  enemy 
an  excellent  chance  to  fire  a  few  healthy  rounds. 

The  next  morning  an  aero  squad  salvaged  the 
captured  plane  and  on  their  return  to  the  rear 
stopped  at  our  gun  position.  Many  bullet  holes 
had  penetrated  the  checkered  wings  and  it  seemed 
to  us  a  miracle  that  neither  pilot  nor  observer  had 
been  killed  or  wounded. 

Our  Battery  received  official  credit  for  this  sec- 
ond and  last  plane  a  week  later;  and  now  the  Bat- 
talion was  credited  with  five  planes  which  set  a 
new  record  for  anti-aircraft  work.  One  plane  in 
10,000  shots  was  the  old  record;  we  brot  it  down 
to  one. plane  in  500. 


OUR  SECOND  PLANE  179 

Considering  the  difficulty  of  aircraft  work  this 
is  a  good  average  and  later  Colonel  Perkins,  Com- 
mander of  air  forces,  Second  Army,  A.  E.  F.,  men- 
tioned our  work  especially  in  an  official  communi- 
cation to  General  Pershing. 


CHAPTER  43 
Balloon  A-fire 

A  Fokker  succeeded  in  burning  Balloon  No.  69 
on  October  30th,  and  a  more  thrilling  and  dare- 
devil stunt  I  have  never  seen.  It  was  late  in  the 
afternon.  We  were  in  camp  and  several  boys  and 
myself  were  industriously  working  in  our  front- 
yard  laundry.  Enemy  planes  had  been  flying  over 
all  day  but  all  flew  at  an  extreme  height,  better 
than  10,000  meters.  The  boys  were  observing  a 
group  of  seven  Fokkers  when  one  plane  detached 
itself  from  the  group  and  disappeared  deep  in  our 
back  lines. 

I  was  washing  away  peacefully  when  suddenly 
a  cry  went  up  in  the  camp.  I  looked  up  and 
there,  just  above  the  trees  at  arms  length,  it  seemed, 
was  the  sly  Fokker.  The  wings  were  silken  white 
except  for  the  maltese  crosses  which  were  pure 
red,  and  a  disfigurement  to  the  plane,  I  thot. 

An  observation  balloon  was  stationed  a  half  mile 
back  of  our  camp ;  we  quickly  guessed  the  culprit 's 
errand.  Why  did  I  not  have  a  rifle  in  my  hand? 
It  seemed  a  simple  matter  to  pump  a  few  rounds 
into  the  plane  so  near. 

Fritz  was  clever.  Having  disappeared  into  the 
back  lines  he  shut  off  his  motor  and  noiselessly  vol- 
planed back  on  the  rays  of  the  sun  unobserved. 
But  now  the  rat-tat-tat  of  machine  guns  surround- 
ing the  balloon  opened  up  with  a  cyclonic  violence. 
Sgt.  Pearson's  crew  began  firing  a  barrage.    Had 


BALLOON  AFIRE  181 

the  Boche  expected  such  a  reception?  Was  he 
prepared  to  withstand  the  fire  ?  We  watch  him  in 
his  cyclic  movements  and  are  prepared  to  see  him 
dashed  to  earth  the  next  instant. 

The  two  balloon  observers  have  jumped — they 
are  drifting  to  earth.  Fritzie  ventures  near  and 
opens  up  with  incendiary  shells.  We  can  see  the 
flaming  projectiles  flying  thru  space.  His  first 
effort  proves  a  failure  and,  making  a  figure  eight, 
Fritz  comes  head  on  firing  as  before.  This  time 
the  gas-bag  is  ignited  and  quickly  drops  to  earth 
in  flames  passing  the  frail  silken  parachutes  of  the 
descending  observers  on  its  way. 

Fritz  has  done  his  work  but  is  now  threatened 
with  an  added  wave  of  machine  gun  bullets.  The 
anti-aircraft  bursts  rend  the  air  and  the  concus- 
sion rocks  the  plane  in  its  flight. 

The  moment  is  tense  and  fraught  with  possibili- 
ties. We  reach  a  clearing  in  the  woods,  bare-headed 
and  breathless.  Fragments  of  shell-cases  whistle 
past  and  drop  at  our  feet,  but  curiosity  far  out- 
rides all  sense  of  danger.  We  cheer  for  Fritzie, 
tho  we  recognize  the  law  of  retribution.  Over  our 
head  he  flies  and  is  soon  out  of  reach  of  the  bal- 
loon's protective  machine  guns,  Sgt.  Pearson's 
fire  is  continued,  but  the  impetuous  bird-man 
proves  illusive.  He  is  now  headed  for  the  lines 
and  defiantly  passes  directly  over  our  gun  position. 
In  the  interim  Sgt.  Pearson  swings  his  gun  and 
then  plants  a  few  shells  on  the  retiring  plane's 
tail.  But  try  as  they  did.  No.  2  crew  could  not 
reach  their  mark. 


182  THRU  THE  FIRES  OF  FRANCE 

Suddenly  two  Spads  drop  out  of  the  sky.  They 
have  been  drawn  to  the  scene  of  action  and  seek  to 
pounce  down  upon  the  victorious  Hun.  They  rid- 
dle the  air  with  machine  gun  bullets  and  appar- 
ently the  game  is  up.  But  no,  even  this  latest  at- 
tempt at  the  life  of  the  Fokker  fails  and  we  watch 
Fritzie  disappear  over  his  line  in  safety. 

The  boys  were  agreed  that  had  the  plane  been 
downed  with  the  pilot  escaping  alive,  we  would 
have  shaken  him  by  the  hand  and  said,   ''Well 
done,  brave  lad,  we  admire  your  nerve." 
#     #     #     # 

On  another  day  two  planes  came  over  the  line 
and  when  within  range  we  began  firing.  Their 
close  liaison  gave  us  a  better  target  and  our  shells 
exploded  deadly  near. 

One  plane  made  a  sudden  plunge  forward.  What 
is  that  dangling  speck  ?  It 's  a  human  being.  0  ! 
what  a  ghastly  sight.  Down — down  to  earth,  then 
a  silent  journey  to  other  realms. 

The  plane  righted  itself  and  flew  back  to  the 
lines.  We  later  argued  that  a  piece  of  shrapnel 
had  found  its  mark,  causing  the  pilot  to  loose  his 
balance  temporarily  and  perhaps  also  severing  the 
strap  which  held  the  observer,  thereby  throwing 
him  in  the  plunge. 

I  am  reminded  of  a  scene  as  recorded  by  Theo. 
Roosevelt,  the  big-game  hunter:  A  lion,  ferocious 
and  maddened  by  a  gun-shot  wound,  came  tearing 
thru  the  brush.  Roosevelt  stood  his  ground  and 
then,  as  the  beast  neared  his  victim,  our  mighty 
hunter  sent  one  crashing  shot  into  the  very  jaws 


BALLOON  AFIRE  183 

of  the  on-rushing  monster.  The  lion  staggered, 
then  fell,  but  the  momentum  carried  the  beast  to 
the  very  feet  of  Teddy.    This  was  sport  de  luxe. 

Of  the  two,  which    can   be    called  the    greater 
'^sportr^ 


CHAPTER  44 
Human  Nature 

Sgt.  Hisey's  crew  No.  3,  under  command  of 
Lieut.  Brush,  left  the  Battery  on  detached  service. 
They  returned  from  Pannes  later,  whither  they 
had  gone  to  hold  down  a  French  position  tempor- 
arily and  to  relieve  the  crew,  many  of  whom  were 
sick.  Now  the  greetings  that  passed  between  the 
boys  on  their  return  was  good  to  see.  Glad  to  be 
with  the  Battery  once  more,  the  boys  celebrated 
with  a  clean  shave  (oh!  how  that  ten-days  growth 
pulled),  a  bath  and  clean  clothing.  The  cooks,  un- 
der Mess  Sgt.  Gilbert,  prepared  an  extra  good  meal 
which  was  devoured  almost  in  gluttony. 

Then  began  the  tales  of  their  adventure  and 
everyone  talked  well  into  the  night.  Well,  to  tell 
the  truth  Sgt.  Hisey  had  a  bit  to  say.  The  first 
night  out  the  Germans  put  a  hump  in  things. 
Wicked  shells  fell  all  around  them  and  Lieut. 
Brush  was  in  favor  of  moving.  But  the  boys  de- 
cided to  risk  the  dugouts  and  remain.  One  shell 
fragment  tore  a  corner  out  of  Gulick's  kitchen. 
For  ten  days  the  boys  worked  under  difficulties. 

As  is  natural  among  Yanks  the  usual  comedy 
came  into  the  conversation  for  more  than  its 
share,  with  the  result  that  poor  Schriber,  Kuhnle 
and  "Snapper"  Ingram  occupied  a  humiliating 
position  in  the  social  order  of  things.  It  seemed 
that  the  first  night  at  Pannes,  when  the  shells  were 
dropping  near,  Kuhnle,   in  a  drawl  and  jagged 


HUMAN  NATUKE  185 

voice,  would  invariably  remark,  ''That — was — a — 
go-od — one."  The  upshot  of  the  matter  was  that 
Kuhnle  received  the  beautiful  title,  "Coon — 
(pause) — nelly."  Thru  constant  repetition  Kuhnle 
soon  learned  to  take  his  new  name  in  a  matter-of- 
fact  way. 

''Snapper,"  on  the  other  hand,  refused  to  de- 
part from  his  tin  "derby"  or  helmet.  Day  and 
night,  in  work  or  sleep,  "Snapper"  wore  his  tin 
hat.  Soldiers  generally  are  averse  to  weakness  or 
timidity  and  because  "Snapper"  was  over  cau- 
tious, perhaps,  the  boys  made  him  an  object  of 
their  balderdash  and  jargon.  One  is  here  reminded 
of  Darwin's,  "survival  of  the  fittest;  and  natural 
selection."  In  active  warfare  you  swim  with  the 
crowd  or  sink  as  "Snapper"  did  weighted  down 
with  his  tin-lid. 

The  following  day,  after  returning  to  camp, 
"Snapper"  wore  his  helmet  around  camp  to  oilr 
great  astonishment,  for  long  since  had  we  replaced 
the  helmet  with  our  little  convenient  over-seas  cap. 
"We  were  willing  to  chance  the  game  to  obtain  com- 
fort, especially  since  Fritz  had  failed  to  locate 
our  position. 

Bill  Schrieber's  ebullient  spirit  and  prying  nat- 
ure led  him  estray  one  day.  Finding  a  queer- 
looking  German  rocket  upon  the  battle-field.  Bill 
proceeded  to  have  some  fun.  Igniting  the  rocket 
it  shot  into  the  air  and  exploded.  Now  in  the  ordi- 
nary course  of  events  such  a  proceeding  would 
have  passed  unnoticed,  except  that  Bill  was  tak- 
ing a  long  chance  on  the  rocket  and  consequently 
his  life. 


186  THRU  THE  FIRES  OF  FRANCE 

Biz-ez-ez-ez-BANG.  A  shell  from  the  enemy 
lines.  Another  report,  another  shell.  Bill  struck 
for  camp  with  lightning  speed.  He  had  drawn 
the  enemy's  fire.  For  this  infringement,  Schrei- 
ber  was  threatened  with  a  court-martial.  Bill's 
punishment  never  came  to  pass,  but  the  experi- 
ence had  a  satiable  effect  upon  his  prying  nature. 


CHAPTER  45 
Plain  Racket 

Every  night  at  the  Front  was  a  noisy  one  and 
we  soon  accustomed  ourselves  to  the  nightly  racket. 
From  the  Argonne  Woods  down  the  line  to  Pont- 
a-Mousson  and  beyond  came  the  drum-fire  and 
bombardment  of  a  million  cannon. 

On  guard  in  the  dead  of  night  with  naught  but 
yourself,  the  star  shells  and  artillery  drum-fire 
for  company,  one  is  tempted  to  wish  that  he  were 
home  in  peace  and  safety.  While  all  are  retired 
and  in  dreamland  you  walk  your  post  alone.  Per- 
haps a  stranger  comes  out  of  the  blackness  of 
night.    You  halt  him  and  ask,  "Who  goes  there?" 

If  a  friend  calls  out  you  advance  him  to  be 
recognized.  The  gun  and  bayonet  held  firmly  in 
position  gives  a  sense  of  protection.  Perhaps  our 
friend  has  lost  his  way  or  is  looking  for  some  loca- 
tion. He  passes  out  into  the  night  and  once  more 
you  are  alone  with  your  thots.  Alone,  yet  in  the 
very  midst  of  activity. 

Every  nerve  in  your  body  is  alert.  Hearing  be- 
comes abnormal  and  you  learn  to  recognize  sound 
in  its  manifold  nature.  You  know  in  an  instant 
whether  a  shell  is  coming  or  going  and  can  gauge 
its  flight  accurately.  I  have  listened  for  hours, 
in  the  dead  of  night,  to  the  interplay  of  shot  and 
shell.  If  a  shell  is  headed  your  way  you  soon  dis- 
cover the  fact  and  without  ceremony  flatten  out  on 
the  ground.    A  bursting  shell  throws  its  fragments 


188  THBU  THE  FIEES  OF  FEANCE 

outwards  and  upwards  so  one  is  comparatively  safe 
flattened  out  if  the  shot  is  not  a  direct  hit.  If 
tlie  bursting  charge  is  hollow-like  it  is  a  gas  bomb 
and  immediately  you  adjust  the  gas-mask,  which 
is  worn  at  all  times,  and  then  give  the  alarm  thru 
the  Klaxon. 

All  large  troop  movements  were  made  under 
cover  of  darkness.  I  have  heard  the  tramp,  tramp, 
tramp  of  a  million  feet  and  the  bang  and  clang  of 
moving  artillery.  Hour  after  hour  in  the  dim 
hours  of  morn,  artillery  and  infantry  passed  upon 
the  highway  and  as  the  last  van-guard  faded  in  the 
distance  an  immense  drum-fire  would  break  out. 
Then  would  follow,  at  dawn,  a  rolling  salvo  inter- 
spersed with  machine  gun  rattle — a  mingled  har- 
mony well  known  to  doughboys. 

If  by  some  miracle  one  could  have  gone  to  the 
scene  in  an  aerial  carriage,  he  would  have  wit- 
nessed, perhaps,  a  local  engagement,  with  Fritz 
and  the  Yanks  holding  a  disputation  over  a  piece 
of  real  estate.  In  this  manner  the  Yanks  were 
continuously  harassing  the  enemy,  biting  into  new 
territory  and  consolidating  old. 

Without  doubt,  the  night  raiding  dreadnaughts, 
the  Gothas,  furnished  much  anxiety  as  regards  per- 
sonal safety.  Ask  Chase.  On  a  clear  night  they 
would  come  over  the  lines  buzzing  in  our  ears 
and  we  were  certain,  positively  certain,  that  the 
droning  plane  was  circling  directly  above  our 
camp.  I  can  remember  how  the  boys,  myself  in- 
cluded, would  draw  the  blankets  gracefully  over 
their  heads  much  the  same  as  children  do  when 
frightened  by  a  darkened  room. 


PLAIN  RACKET  189 

If  an  ''egg"  had  been  dropped  thru  the  roof 
of  our  barracks,  I  can  assure  you,  dear  reader,  that 
a  blanket  would  have  been  no  protection,  rather 
you  would  have  gathered  around  a  gaping  hole 
m  the  earth  the  next  morning  wondering  how  the 
shack  had  disappeared.  For  I  call  your  attention 
to  the  fact  that  aerial  torpedoes  sometimes  gorged 
a  hole  in  the  landscape  so  large  that  a  horse  at 
the  bottom  of  the  crater  would  have  appeared  as 
a  cat  by  comparison. 


CHAPTER  46 
Deacon,  "  "  Silent  ' '  and  I 


Excursion  parties  on  foot  were  a  familiar  sight 
around  Nonsard  Woods.  While  off  duty  the  boys 
were  allowed  to  go  wherever  they  chose.  * '  Curly ' ' 
Best,  ''Vic"  Ledgerton  and  others  made  a  trip  to 
the  front  line  trenches  near  St.  Benoit.  Sgt. 
Gilbert  and  party  went  as  far  as  Thiacourt  in  the 
Battery's  truck.  Powers,  Fuller,  Sharp,  Ledger- 
ton  and  I  walked  over  to  Vigneulles,  tho  we  re- 
fused to  climb  the  hill  when  we  arrived  at  its  base. 
Fresh  second  line  trenches  had  been  completed  the 
week  before  and  we  wondered  at  the  wisdom  of 
wasting  so  much  wire  and  labor,  especially  since 
the  Hun  army  was  so  completely  disintegrating. 
The  trench  communications  and  equipment  were 
complete  in  every  detail  and  it  dawned  upon  me 
then  and  there  how  thoro  and  business-like  the 
Yanks  were  carrying  on  the  war. 

One  day  "Deacon,"  ''Silent"  and  I  planned 
an  excursion  to  the  nearest  canteen,  Y.  M.  C.  A.  or 
otherwise,  whither  we  went  in  search  of  chocolate 
and  sweet  things.  One  lonely  Y.  M.  C.  A.  wagon 
passed  our  camp  during  the  two  months  so  you 
see  we  were  in  dire  straits  as  regard  toothsome 
food.  Upon  returning  to  camp  in  the  evening  I 
sat  down  and  wrote  a  short  essay  and  I  here  re- 
copy  it  for  your  pleasure : 

"Deacon,"  "Silent"  and  I  left  camp  at  one 
o'clock  midday.     According  to  military  require- 


''DEACON,''    "SILENT"    AND    I  191 

ments  we  wore  the  regulation  uniform,  knit  sweater, 
gas-mask  slung  over  the  right  shoulder  and  rest- 
ing on  the  left  hip,  cane  and  gloves  to  match. 
Our  destination  was  the  nearest  canteen,  Y.  M. 
C.  A.  or  otherwise,  where  chocolate,  jam  and 
other  toothsome  food  is  sold.  And  incidentally 
we  planned  to  plunder  a  deserted  shack  or  two 
and  scout  for  valuables  on  our  way. 

So  we  started  out,  the  sun  high  in  the  heavens 
and  a  good  breeze  that  filled  the  lungs  to  over- 
flowing. In  these  parts  there  are  forests  galore; 
trees,  trees  and  more  trees.  Old  ''Deacon"  takes 
to  the  road  and  we're  off  thru  the  forest  and  the 
camp  is  lost  to  the  eye  in  a  twinkling. 

' '  It 's  a  whole  hog  and  a  biscuit !  Anyone  else  1 
Boys,  they're  hot  and  a  heatin' — only  a  dime,  the 
smallest  part  of  a  dollar — anyone  else?" 

No,  we  haven't  come  to  a  carnival — its  only 
"Deac."  trying  out  his  voice  in  view  of  returning 
to  his  old  job  down  at  Coney  Isle.  His  voice  echoes 
thru  the  forest  and  we're  laughing  to  split,  one 
of  those  good  old  side-splitters  that  makes  one 
gasp  for  breath.  "Silent"  has  little  to  say  but 
joins  the  fun. 

The  canteen  in  question  is  several  kilometers 
over  at  a  French  village  ''in  this  direction,"  as 
one  M.  P.  advised,  but  it  is  in  "that  direction" 
ventures  another.  We  travel  on  watching  the 
mile-stones  and  keeping  a  peeled  eye  for  valuables, 
for  it's  the  old  stamping  ground  of  Fritz  that  we 
cover  in  our  walk. 

Thru  an  opening  in  the  dense  forest  we  come 


192  THRU  THE  FIRES  OF  FRANCE 

upon  a  sector  of  trenches.  We  stand  in  the  midst 
of  terrible  memories ;  where  doughboys  fought  and 
bled;  where  democracy  fought  autocracy  and  won. 
At  one  spot  the  crevices  in  the  earth  formed  the 
letter  E  and  I  was  tempted  to  think  that  Father 
Time  had  traced  the  second  letter  of  the  word 
PEACE  as  a  token  of  encouragement  for  strug- 
gling and  sorrowing  humanity. 

There  are  tank  tracks  and  the  numerous  paths 
wind  thru  barbed-wire  entanglements,  over 
trenches,  and  across  the  battlefield.  Bits  of  hand 
grenades  are  scattered  about  and  here  and  there  is 
seen  the  familiar  German  helmet.  Gun-pits,  dug- 
outs, snipers'  posts,  communication  trenches,  tele- 
phone wires  and  all  the  accessories  of  warfare  en- 
gage our  attention  as  we  travel  on.  Across  the 
small  valley  is  a  series  of  foothills  and  from  our 
station  we  discover  a  town  nestled  cozily  on  a  side 
hill.  We  decide  that  a  canteen  is  there  and  so 
strike  out  over  the  broad  green  meadows  and 
fields;  fields  that  have  not  known  the  plough  in 
four  years. 

Here  and  there  on  the  battle-scarred  soil  of 
France,  in  territory  sacred  to  lovers  of  Joan  of 
Arc,  is  evidence  of  Hun  thoroness.  At  one  place 
w^e  came  upon  a  desolate  building  which  had  been 
wrecked  and  fired;  upon  this  ruin  a  shell  had 
lately  fallen  throwing  the  fresh  under-earth  over 
the  burnt  area,  giving  to  the  scene  a  gruesome 
aspect  as  tho  a  mourner  had  recently  decorated  a 
neglected  grave  with  fresh  flowers.  Destruction 
over  destruction  is  more  than  the  human  heart 
can  understand. 


' ' DEACON, '"' SILENT ' '  AND  1  193 

At  length  we  reach  the  village  (Buxieres). 
Already  the  civilian  population  had  commenced  to 
habitate  their  old  shell-wrecked  homes  and  to  our 
surprise  we  discover  that  women  and  children  are 
down  at  the  village  laundry.  To  a  soldier  in  the 
field  the  gentler  folk  are  a  curiosity,  to  say  the 
least.  We  hungrily  fed  our  souls  in  their  presence. 
Every  true  soldier  returning  to  the  States  and 
home  will  be  generous  in  courtesy  and  will  have 
a  heartier  consideration  for  the  better  sex.  He 
will  worship  his  sisters  in  a  degree  heretofore  un- 
known. 

0 !  what  a  desolate,  useless,  God-forsaken  spot 
where  SHE  is  not  in  evidence ;  where  SHE  neither 
comes  nor  goes,  nor  laughs,  nor  revels  in  the  com- 
pany and  joy  of  souls  more  tender  in  age. 

Suddenly  "Deacon"  remembers  that  we  have 
come  for  ''eats"  and  stirs  "Silent"  and  I  from  out 
a  deep  reverie. 

^'Quoi  direction  est  la  kantine,  sit  vous  plait f^' 
we  venture  in  broken  French  to  a  passing  brother 
soldier. 

' '  La,  la ! "  and  more  French  that  we  took  for 
granted,  this  soldier  offered,  accompanied  with  a 
bow  that  bordered  onto  a  curtsy. 

Canteen  found  we  proceed  to  smack  our  lips 
and  prepare  for  sweet  tootsie-wootsies — baby  food 
a  la  carte,  minus  knife,  fork  and  spoon,  and  man- 
ners. 

"What  have  you  for  sale,"  we  ask  the  French- 
man, for  it  happened  that  the  only  canteen  in  town 
was  French. 


194  THRU  THE  FIRES  OF  FRANCE 

''No  eompre,"  he  returns  with  a  shrug  of  his 
shoulders,  and  we  revert  to  the  ancient  mode  of 
communication.  With  finger  signs  we  discover 
that  he  has  canned  goods.  For  instance,  there  is 
salmon  (gold-fish),  tripe,  roast  beef  and  other 
products  of  the  once  living,  now  dead  and  offered 
for  sale.  In  these  commodities  we  are  not  inter- 
ested. And  to  our  utter  disappointment  the  sup- 
ply of  chocolate,  confecture  and  jam  was  ex- 
hausted. 

Doggedly  we  about  faced  and  traced  our  way 
up  the  picturesque  village  street,  passed  officers 
and  soldiers  representing  many  nations,  gave  the 
women  and  children  one  last  homesick  glance,  and 
were  winding  our  way  thru  the  under-brush  of 
the  side  hill. 

On  our  return  to  camp  we  crost  a  few  vine- 
yards. Clusters  of  sour  grapes  were  still  clinging 
to  withered  barren  vines.  These  we  plucked  and 
hungrily  ate.  ' '  Not  bad, ' '  was  the  unanimous  opin- 
ion of  ''Deacon,"  "Silent"  and  I. 

As  a  consequence  of  shells  coming  and  going 
there  are  but  few  moments  of  quietness  and  secur- 
ity on  the  Front.  However,  the  constant  shelling 
from  either  side  is  such  a  commonplace  affair  that 
the  noise  has  ceased  to  startle.  But  hush !  Listen ! 
something  rings  in  the  ear  and  freezes  the  very 
blood  in  the  veins !  Every  emotion  known  to  man 
vibrates  in  one  symphonic  harmony.    Hush! 

No — ^tis  not  shell,  nor  destruction,  nor  death, 
but  a  beautiful  old-fashioned  melody  that  comes 
floating  on  the  wings  of  the  evening  breeze;  a 
clarionet  duet  from  a  camp  yonder. 


'  ^DEACON, ""  SILENT ' '  AND  I  195 

Tell  me  that  the  spiritual  in  man  is  not;  tell 
me  that  the  physical  is  supreme,  and  I  am  deaf, 
for  my  soul  cannot  hear  these  things.  But  whis- 
per to  me  that  Providence  is  near,  that  the  inner 
man  IS  and  my  ear  is  yours. 

"We  flew  home,  at  dusk,  on  the  wings  of  song. 


CHAPTER  47 
Days  of  Fun 

Theatrical  stunts,  both  professional  and  home 
talent,  helped  pass  away  the  time.  Down  at  Bal- 
loon No.  69  you  would  find  the  boys  every  Friday 
night.  Good  vaudeville,  direct  from  New  York, 
was  staged  and  directed  by  real  show  people  who 
had  come  to  France  to  do  their  bit ;  "  Professional 
War- Actors'  Association,"  or  some  such  title. 

The  Balloon  men  had  converted  a  large  German 
barracks  into  a  modern  showhouse.  A  double  en- 
trance prevented  escaping  lamp-light  and  every 
crack  and  crevice  was  sought  out  and  stuffed, 
making  the  house  appear  as  an  integral  part  of 
the  landscape  in  the  blackness  of  night.  However, 
the  closed  conditions  harbored  foul  air  and  the 
copious  tobacco  smoke  from  a  hundred  cigarettes 
made  one  somnolent  to  the  point  of  sleep  ere  the 
evening  had  run  its  course.  But  the  vaudeville 
stunts  were  to  the  American's  liking  and  the  boys 
often  returned  to  camp  with  mental  cornucopias. 
Nicotine  abstainers  usually  remained  home  for 
convenience,  not  pleasure. 

Quite  a  dramatic  yet  anxious  moment  came  one 
Friday  evening  at  the  showhouse.  A  sketch  was 
in  progress  when  suddenly  a  group  of  night  raid- 
ers stormed  our  position  and  began  dropping  their 
deadly  missiles.  Just  over  the  way  an  explosion 
belched  forth  flame  and  steel  and  yet  with  all  the 
disturbance  the  actors  continued  in    their    roles. 


DAYS  OF  FUN  197 

finishing  just  as  the  last  explosion  died  away.  It 
was  a  trying  moment,  but  soldier-like  our  enter- 
tainers carried  the  full  program  on  to  its  con- 
clusion. 

In  the  Palace  one  evening  the  boys  put  on  a 
3-act  show,  and  Captain  Duffie  (promoted)  and 
Lieutenant  Brush  were  invited.  Wayne  Huffman 
played  two  good  selections  on  his  steel  guitar,  a 
guitar  by  the  way,  of  unique  appearance,  having 
names,  dates  and  places  carved  over  every  inch 
of  its  surface.  Upon  the  strings  of  this  guitar 
Wayne  played  with  such  feeling  that  we  involun- 
tarily closed  our  eyes  and  floated  on  the  wings  of 
Hawaiian  melody  to  that  little  island  out  in  the 
Pacific,  there  to  meet  and  sing  with  dream  people, 
there  to  join  the  nature  spirit  dance  and  witness 
the  holy  incantations  to  gods  and  men  who  dwell 
in  Paradise. 

We  were  later  rudely  awakened  and  dragged 
from  the  sublime  to  the  ridiculous.  "Bart"  and 
"Crum*'  staged  a  monkey  and  organ-grinder 
scene.  The  monkey  was  well  imitated  and  we  cheer- 
fully gave  our  offerings. 

Old  "Deacon"  Powers  livened  things  up  with 
a  mimic  auction  sale.  "Dec"  can  put  more  words 
into  a  second  of  time  and  can  talk  longer  and 
louder  in  a  single  breath  than  any  one  I  have  ever 
met.  In  a  casual  conversation  with  "Dec"  you  al- 
ways laugh  but  to  hear  him  in  an  auction-tirade  is 
to  split  your  sides  and  I  can  now  vividly  recall 
Capt.  Duffie  and  Lieut.  Brush  both  convulsed  in 
laughter,  the  Captain  almost  sliding  off  his  chair 
in  helplessness. 


198  THRU  THE  FIRES  OF  FRANCE 

When  ''Dec"  winds  up  for  business  he  never 
cracks  a  smile.  In  a  forceful,  continuous,  almost 
automatic  style  he  sold  a  Guernsey  cow  in  this 
fashion,  the  following  being  but  a  fraction  of  his 
words : 

** There  she  is,  boys;  look  her  over.  How  much 
am  I  bid?  Do  I  hear  50?  50,  who'll  make  it  60? 
50,  who's  make  it  60?  Look  her  over,  boys,  she's 
cow  from  her  horns  to  her  tail.  Wide  between 
the  eyes,  shows  lots  of  intelligence.  She's  got 
an  udder  on  her  like  a  barrel  with  a  teat  on  every 
corner.  Do  I  hear  60?  60,  who'll  make  it  70? 
60,  who'll  make  it  70?  60  and  10  to  go.  60  and 
10  to  go.  .  Do  I  hear  70  ?  Boys,  she 's  a  good  look- 
er, a  high  hooker.  She'll  make  you  butter  and 
give  you  her  young,  feed  your  family  and  double 
your  income.  Do  I  hear  70  ?  Do  I  hear  70  ?  Going 
at  70.  I'll  sell  her  for  70.  Going  at  70.  So 
help  me  God,  up  goes  the  hammer,  pop  goes  the 
weasel — and  sold,  for  70. " 

*' Deacon"  gave  a  sidewalk  handkerchief  sale 
next  and  finished  the  evening  with  a  side  show  an- 
nouncement, ''Lonzo  Lorenzo — he  eats  'em  alive!" 
As  long  as  I  live  I  shall  never  forget  old  *'Dec" 
(Luverne  C.  Powers),  merrymaker  and  friend  ex- 
cellence. 

To  mention  comedy  is  to  remember  the  fun  out 
at  the  gun-pit.  Oft  times  we  would  wander  out 
to  the  pit  to  watch  the  French  at  work.  Unlike 
the  Americans,  who  remained  in  position  all  day, 
the  French  would  retire  to  their  bunks  about  200 
feet  over  at  the  edge  of  the  forest,  leaving  a  spot- 


DAYS  OF  FUN  199 

ter  on  the  job.  Suddenly  a  Boche  would  appear 
from  nowhere  and  then  the  excitement  and  the 
hullabaloo  would  begin.  Answering  the  general 
alarm,  Frenchmen  could  be  seen  emerging  from 
the  forest  half  clad  and  straining  every  muscle 
in  their  endeavor  to  reach  the  gun  position.  If 
the  call  was  most  urgent,  cries  of  vite!  vite! 
(quickly)  could  be  heard  and  then  the  scramble 
would  begin.  While  it  was  a  loss  to  the  general 
efficiency  of  the  Allied  armies  for  these  French  to 
employ  such  loose  methods,  a  fact  that  we  de- 
plored, still  their  acts  furnished  much  amusement 
for  us. 

The  Battery  Commander  (French)  was  a  like- 
able fellow.  He  would  visit  us  practically  every 
day  while  on  duty  and  several  times  returned  to 
camp  to  partake  of  a  real  American  dinner.  The 
boys  would  accost  the  Captain  with,  ' '  How  are  you 
today?"  In  reply  he  would  say,  ''Three  beans  on 
silver  plate."  Now,  to  hear  a  Frenchman  repeat 
this  simple  phrase  is  comical,  and  every  overseas 
soldier  will  tell  you  so.  The  mystery  is  this: 
Tries  hein  sVl  vous  plait  (very  well,  if  you  please) 
was  remade  to  suit  the  Yank  and  all  over  France 
today  you  will  hear,  ' '  Three  beans  on  silver  plate. ' ' 

Still  another  source  of  comedy  was  Neustead, 
the  mighty  hunter,  who  went  forth  into  the  wilds 
of  Nonsard  woods  one  day  and  returned  with  a 
** ferocious"  animal.  A  poor  army  horse,  gassed 
and  in  a  state  of  collapse,  had  been  turned  into 
pacture  to  recover  as  best  it  could.  Upon  this 
beast  of  burden  Neustead  pounced  and  returned  to 
camp  with  his  prey.    By  gentle  treatment  the  beast 


200  THRU  THE  FIRES  OF  FRANCE 

slowly  recovered.  Later  Neustead  salvaged  a  wagon, 
harness  and  hay,  reclaimed  a  stable  and  was  soon 
running  errands  for  the  Captain. 

^'Auk"  Sterne  was  recognized  as  the  Battery 
glutton.  You  could  always  depend  on  Sterne  re- 
turning to  the  serving  table  for  seconds,  thirds  and 
fourths,  even.  In  the  field  all  food  is  served  cafe- 
teria style,  so  the  first  group  of  men  in  line  have 
their  choice  of  the  food  being  served.  Unusual 
racket  always  attended  every  meal  and  at  the  first 
stroke  of  the  gong  all  men  grabbed  their  mess-tins 
and  scattered  pell-mell  into  line.  To  be  first  in 
line  was  to  be  first  served  with  an  excellent  chance 
to  finish  in  time  to  follow  up  the  line  for  a  second 
helping.  It  was  always  a  problem  for  the  mess 
sergeant  to  feed  all  men  alike  and  in  spite  of  his 
careful  observations  and  strict  rules  a  few  men 
always  received  more  than  their  share. 

The  boys  would  watch  the  cooks  hawk-like  and 
if  something  extra  was  announced,  after  the  main 
meal  had  been  served,  fleeting  feet  and  rattling 
mess-tins  was  the  answer. 

Crumrine  sat  with  his  back  to  the  serving  table 
one  day.  Several  men  passed  him  on  the  run. 
This  was  well  known  language  to  ''Crum,''  for  he 
deciphered  the  meaning  in  an  instant  and  followed. 
Upon  returning  to  the  table  with  an  empty  plate 
I  asked  the  reason.  ''Giving  out  spuds,"  was  his 
answer.  Now  ''Crum"  was  not  interested  in  plain 
potatoes,  in  fact  he  did  not  know  just  what  he 
wanted  but  someone  was  running,  and  like  the 
lamb  had  followed. 


CHAPTER  48 
Censored  Mail 

On  October  26th  Lieutenant  Samuel  R.  Dows 
returned  to  our  Command  and  Lieut.  Brush  went 
to  Headquarters,  Aircraft  Service,  2nd  Army,  at 
Toul,  to  act  as  Adjutant  to  Colonel  Perkins.  With 
the  advent  of  Dows  trouble  began.  By  way  of  ex- 
planation let  it  be  known  that  Sam  Dows  was  a 
lad  of  22  summers  or  thereabouts.  Now  that  this 
fact  is  known  what  follows  will  be  perfectly  com- 
prehensible. 

Every  army  man  has  had  occasion  to  blame  the 
censor  for  meddling  with  his  innermost  thots. 
Many  lads  omitted  the  better  part  of  their  senti- 
ments in  letters  home  just  because  the  Captain  or 
Lieutenant  of  his  company  or  battery  had  the  right 
by  law  to  read  his  mail.  This  barrier  was  un- 
surmountable  for  some  and  as  a  consequence  the 
folks  at  home  received  scraps  of  paper  which  could 
hardly  be  termed  real  letters. 

When  I  wrote  Mrs.  Stone  I  held  back  nothing 
and  in  ten  and  twenty  page  letters  once  per  week 
I  wrote  the  best  that  I  could  offer — love,  sacrifice, 
philosophy.  Yet,  for  my  pains  Lieut.  Dows  called 
me  to  his  office  and  gently  but  firmly  informed 
me  that  I  was  writing  too  much.  Very  well,  I 
was  content  to  reduce  the  number  of  pages  per 
letter,  but  listen !  Our  great  and  learned  academ- 
ician proposed  that  I  straighten  out  some  of  my 
philosophy ;  that  I  cease  from  my  insane  and  bom- 


202  THRU  THE  FIRES  OF  FRANCE 

bastic  railing.  Since  when  had  the  army  imposed 
this  latest  shackle?  Was  my  God-given  right  to 
think  to  be  seized  upon  and  dwarfed  ?  No,  not  so, 
and  I  shot  back  straight  from  the  shoulder,  with  a 
piercing  glare,  a  question,  ''Will  the  Lieutenant 
explain  whereof  I  have  offended  his  philosophical 
interpretation  of  life?''  He  passed  the  question 
off  to  a  slight  technical  army  phrase  in  my  letter 
with  an  affable  meekness  that  quite  amused  me. 

Ingram  and  Woolaver  had  been  called  to  the 
office  for  a  similar  offense.  Their  letters  home 
were  too  numerous  was  Dows  only  complaint,  and 
this  was  soon  adjusted  satisfactorily — as  far  as 
Dows  was  concerned. 

My  next  letter  home  was  written  seven  days 
before  the  signing  of  the  armistice.  It  was  in- 
tended for  Dows'  eyes  but  before  I  could  mail  the 
letter  in  the  Battery's  office  Woolaver  and  I  were 
transferred  to  Headquarters  at  Toul.  The  letter 
was  given  to  Lieut.  Brush,  now  Captain,  who  re- 
turned it  requesting  that  I  tear  out  a  page  which 
"seemed  to  reflect  upon  a  brother  officer,"  he 
said.  I  did,  and  saved  the  page  which  I  here  re- 
copy  : 

*  *  *  This  week  we  came  to  a  final  under- 
standing regarding  mail.  Four  letter  per  man  per 
week  was  suggested  as  quite  sufficient.  Assuming 
that  each  letter  contains  a  full  sheet  of  four  pages 
it  would  total  sixteen  pages  per  week.  Now  de- 
pend on  it,  you  shall  have  sixteen  pages  from  your 
husband  each  week. 

A  series  of  ambiguous  statements  from  men  of 


CENSORED  MAIL  203 

this  command  leads  me  to  remark  that  I  may  be 
dictated  to  in  regard  to.  the  amount  of  reading 
matter  I  shall  write,  but  by  my  God  I  hurl  my 
pen  with  defiance  into  the  face  of  any  man  who 
dictates  to  me  or  even  suggests  as  to  WHAT  I  shall 
write,  statistics  and  geography  of  military  matters 
excepted,  I  understand  the  necessity  of  limited 
freedom  in  the  army  but  I  cannot  quite  under- 
stand the  apparent  new  departure  of  curtailing 
freedom  of  thot.  I  am  a  soldier  of  the  United 
States  Army  and  that  is  something;  that  is  my 
protection. 

Into  the  crucible  of  war  have  been  cast  the  dross 
and  scum  of  life  and  let  the  melting  pot  be  fur- 
ther added  to  by  the  empty  brains  of  those  all- 
wise  beings  who  propose  to  crush  all  they  do  not 
understand.    I  think  this  is  sufficient.  *  *  * 


CHAPTER  49 
Last  Days  of  the  War 

The  morning  Woolaver  and  I  left  camp  all  was 
quiet  and  peaceful.  No.  1  gun-crew  was  at  the  pit, 
the  kitchen  force  was  busily  engaged  in  preparing 
the  noon  meal,  and  the  remaining  men  were  fol- 
lowing their  usual  pursuits.  At  this  moment  we 
were  totally  ignorant  of  the  peace  negotiations 
which  were  destined  to  reach  maturity  six  days 
later.  We  were  inclined  to  congratulate  ourselves 
upon  leaving  the  Front  for  territority  free  from 
shot  and  shell;  from  German-made  barracks  to  a 
regular  French  garrison;  from  mud  to  pavement; 
from  a  violent  occupation  to  one  more  peaceful 
in  nature. 

As  we  w^ent  spinning  along  the  highway  we  re- 
turned, in  thot,  to  the  camp  and  wondered  how 
the  boys  would  brave  the  elements  during  the  win- 
ter. Already  the  sun  was  drawing  near  its  south- 
ern goal,  the  Tropic  of  Capricorn,  making  the 
nights  long  and  the  weather  cold.  From  our  posi- 
tion (45°  north)  it  seemed  that  Old  Sol  reached 
the  apex  of  his  daily  ascent  at  8  a.  m.  and  then 
remained  suspended  in  the  mid-heaven  till  4  in 
the  afternoon. 

Winter  had  come.  The  oaks  were  practically 
bare  and  golden  brown  leaves  carpeted  the  sur- 
rounding woods.  Our  feathered  comrades  were  in 
the  south,  having  gone  thither  in  quest  of  a  sunny 
clime.     In  the  early  morn  it  was  quite  cold  but 


LAST  DAYS  OF  THE  WAR  205 

refreshing.  Ice  formed  over  all  water  surfaces 
and  one  morning  the  landscape  was  so  frosted  it 
had  the  appearance  of  snow.  Usually  it  was 
cloudy   and   altogether  quite   lifeless   and   bleak. 

On  this  morning,  however,  the  sun  was  bright 
and  the  air  fresh.  We  breathed  deeply,  my  friend 
and  I,  for  old  time's  sake,  as  we  dashed  forward 
over  blood-stained  roads. 

At  Headquarters  Company  we  stopped,  a  half 
hour  later,  to  transfer  to  a  large  truck.  We  found 
ourselves  now  in  company  with  four  other  men, 
all  detailed  for  work  at  Headquarters  in  Toul. 

While  all  were  standing  about  waiting  for  din- 
ner, a  nearby  battery  broke  the  silence  and  sent  a 
ripping  shell  out  into  space.  We  noticed  a  Fokker 
coming  over.  Bang !  Bang !  repeated  the  gun  many 
times  but  the  obstreperous  one  sailed  on. 

Suddenly  out  of  the  high  clouds  two  Americans 
dropt  and  Fritzie,  seeing  his  escape  cut  off,  be- 
gan diving  and  sideslipping  back  to  his  lines.  The 
Americans  followed,  dropping  tw^o  and  three  hun- 
dred feet  at  a  plunge.  The  droning  agony  of 
over- worked  motors  was  heard  at  every  turn.  Fritz 
was  in  a  precarious  position.  He  sw^ung  towards 
our  line,  then  made  a  sharp  bank  and  started 
homeward  in  the  face  of  machine  gun  bullets.  In 
another  instant  the  plane  made  a  plunge  and 
dashed  to  earth.  One  more  soul  was  added  to  the 
invisible  hosts  of  the  battlefield. 

After  dinner  we  started  for  Toul.  As  we  passed 
the  danger  zone  all  breathed  deeply.  Woolaver 
whistled — a  sort  of  safety  valve,  good  for  nerves— 


206  THRU  THE  FIRES  OF  FRANCE 

and  later  broke  into,  *'Now  honey,  don*t  be  late, 
I  want  to  be  there  when  the  band  starts  playing.*' 

Spinning  along  at  a  good  pace  we  passed  de- 
stroyed villages  and  untilled  fields.  Mile  upon 
mile  we  left  behind,  until  finally  a  few  civilians, 
women  and  children  along  the  roadside  were  evi- 
dence that  we  were  once  more  in  civilization.  At 
five  o'clock  we  passed  under  the  arched  toll  gate 
into  Toul  proper. 

Next  day  we  were  duly  established  in  office  after 
having  taken  an  oath  to  secrecy,  and  soon  we 
recognized  that  we  were  working  in  an  office  that 
represented  the  brains  of  the  Aircraft  Service,  Sec- 
ond Army.  This  office  in  turn  was  an  integral 
part  of  the  Aircraft  Service,  A.  E.  F.,  under  com- 
mand of  Col.  Hopkins,  who  received  his  orders 
direct  from  Headquarters,  A.  E.  F.,  General 
Pershing,  conunanding. 

It  required  no  mean  intelligence  to  understand 
the  war-map  and  its  relation  to  near-peace.  With- 
out divulging  army  secrets  I  wrote  home  and  said, 
among  other  things :  The  latest  reports  seem  to  in- 
dicate that  the  conference  between  Generalissimo 
Foch  and  the  German  emissaries  is  proceeding 
satisfactorily.  PEACE  is  actually  in  sight.  Think 
of  it !  When  you  read  these  lines  the  whole  strug- 
gle will  have  ended,  perhaps,  and  these  words  will 
not  be  thrilling.  But  think  of  the  time  in  which 
I  am  writing.  Tomorrow  we  may  know  the  story. 
Tonight  we  actually  do  not  know.  We  may  imagine, 
we  may  even  construct  a  Peace  to  suit  ourselves, 
but  imagine  the  outlet  of  feeling  that  will  be  ours 


LAST  DAYS  OF  THE  WAR  207 

when  the  word  comes  ringing  over  the  wire.  I  can 
remember  in  my  letters  last  month  how  I  hesitated, 
even  avoided  speaking  of  the  future.  From  every 
report  that  reaches  the  office  I  can  now  construct 
but  one  possible  result.  0 !  the  day  when  peace 
comes !  It  will  be  difficult  to  hold  the  boys ;  their 
outbursts  will  be  loud  and  long.  Flags  will  wave, 
drums  beat  and  hearts  will  throb. 


CHAPTER  50 
November  IIth^  1918 

Somewhere  in  Nonsard  Woods  in  the  chill  hours 
before  dawn  crew  No.  1  stirred  in  their  bunks  to 
ask  if  this  was  The  Day.  Ice  cracked  under  their 
feet  later  as  the  boys  tramped  thru  the  leafless 
oaks  and  up  to  the  gun  position.  Overcoats, 
gloves  and  extra  clothing  added  a  degree  of  com- 
fort to  aching  feet  and  nervous  hands.  Was  this 
the  last?  THE  NEWS:  Was  it  true?  Eleven 
0  *clock  ? 

The  drum-fire  along  the  Front  was  intense.  In 
the  advancing  day  a  new  energy  seemed  to  grip 
the  artillery.  What  a  holocaust  this  incessant  fire 
must  be  causing  in  the  closing  hours  of  a  world 
war!  In  the  inferno  of  ages,  amid  flames  and 
steel  and  enhanced  by  the  fruitful  signs  of  a 
closing  Armageddon,  the  last  vestige  of  the  Prus- 
sian war-machine,  once  proud  and  haughty,  was 
being  swept  from  existence. 

At  eleven  sharp  the  gun-crew  put  thru  a  clean- 
ing shot  and  the  next  instant  all  activity  came  to 
an  abrupt  end.    The  war  was  over. 

At  Toul  the  bells  were  tolling  and  men,  women 
and  children  were  shouting  the  glad  tidings.  At 
my  typewriter  I  paused  to  glance  out  of  the  win- 
dow. A  Catholic  lady  over  the  way  was  making 
the  Sign  upon  her  breast.    La  guerre  finis! 

A  few  moments  before  Col.  Perkins  had  read  the 
armistice  terms  and  I  can  truly  say  that  he  lacked 


NOVEMBEE  IITH,  1918  209 

in  military  dignity  on  this  occasion.  We  all  smiled 
and  proceeded  to  slap  each  other  upon  the  back, 
child-like,  and  were  not  aware  of  our  actions.  Re- 
cent events  had  unnerved  us. 

Out  on  the  Front,  as  I  afterwards  learned,  the 
opposing  armies  were  meeting  on  friendly  terms 
upon  the  battlefield.  Sgt.  Gilbert  and  a  group  of 
men  drove  up  to  Thiaucourt  and  crossed  no  man 's 
land.  The  Germans  w^elcomed  the  boys  with  out- 
stretched hands,  and  in  magic  friendship  both 
friend  and  enemy  met,  inspected  each's  equip- 
ment and  exchanged  souvenirs. 

At  Headquarters  there  was  a  general  let-down 
from  the  high  tension  and  rejoicing.  At  noon  a 
U.  S.  band  gave  a  rousing  concert  down  at  the 
public  square.  I  fell  to  merry  making  among  the 
thousands  of  soldiers  representing  every  Allied  na- 
tion, and  the  villagers.  The  crowd  grew  and  the 
music  increased,  flags  waved  and  horns  honked, 
bells  tolled  and  people  laughed,  making  apparent 
silly  gestures,  unmindful  of  each  other.  The  brisk 
late-autumn  air  surged  thru  our  being  and  there 
was  a  feeling  that  a  New  Age  was  being  ushered 
in. 

I  returned  to  the  office  to  clear  out  some  paper 
work  and  then,  after  a  hasty  supper,  I  once  more 
walked  the  streets  of  Toul  and  joined  the  throng. 
In  the  multitudes  of  peoples  I  was  lost. 

Darkness  came,  but  wait !  What  seemed  strange  ? 
Why,  it  is  the  illumination  of  a  million  incan- 
descent globes  from  the  shop  windows  thruout  the 
town.     All  blinds  had  been  removed    that    very 


210  THEU  THE  FIRES  OF  FRANCE 

afternoon,  for  now  the  air-raiders  were  van- 
quished ;  the  air-raid  was  a  ghost  of  the  past.  Hand 
lamps  were  conspicuously  absent.  A  town  that 
seemed  at  first  to  be  a  mere  village  grew  in  size 
and  the  crowds  increased  as  the  country  people 
joined  in.  Traversing  a  dozen  crooked  streets  and 
turning  a  ''million"  corners  I  once  more  came  to 
the  crowded  public  square.  At  the  bandstand  I 
hesitated.  A  cornet  solo,  "Just  a  Baby's  Prayer 
at  Twilight,"  awoke  tender  memories  and  tears 
stole  into  my  eyes  as  my  heart  thrilled  in  the 
thot  of  a  future  homecoming.  Music  is  a  won- 
derful agent  to  awaken  the  memxOry  and  make  clear 
the  mind. 

The  fog  began  to  roll  in  from  somewhere  and 
soon  the  platform  lights  stood  out  in  the  hazy  night 
like  distant  stars.  White  clouds  of  vapor  escaped 
with  every  breath  and  the  crisp  air  spoke  of  added 
vigor.  The  usual  waves  of  human  beings  surged  to 
and  fro  but  I  remained  unmoved.  0.  Henry 
advised  his  readers  that  he  often  sought  solitude 
in  the  dense  throng.  Alone  and  encircled  by 
strains  of  beautiful  music  I  fell  to  thinking  of 
near  and  distant  past,  of  the  present  and  ventured 
into  the  future.  With  folded  arms  I  kept  my 
eyes  glued  to  the  hazy  lights  and  reveled  in  the 
music.  In  that  hour  I  wondered  if  the  scientists 
would  still  cling  to  the  mechanics  of  the  brain 
and  the  cessation  of  life  at  the  grave.  Surely 
man  can  no  longer  be  deceived  in  these  things. 

At  a  late  hour  I  crawled  into  my  straw  bunk. 


CHAPTER  51 
A  Poem 

Toul  is  an  old  city.  A  high  protective  wall  and 
familiar  moat  surround  the  ancient  city  while 
four  or  five  gates  with  draw-bridges  give  access 
to  the  outside  world.  If  you  have  seen  one  French 
city  or  village  you  have  seen  all.  Toul  is  no  ex- 
ception to  the  rule.  The  streets  are  just  as  crooked 
and  its  business  as  intangible  as  ever  a  layman 
could  find  in  France. 

For  twelve  days  following  the  armistice  the  of- 
fice force  held  down  chairs  at  Headquarters — noth- 
ing else.  War  was  over  and  our  paper  work 
dropt  to  the  freezing  point.  Eager  to  finish  a 
story  I  was  working  on  at  the  time,  I  remained 
after  hours.  It  was  during  the  long  still  watch 
of  the  night  in  this  comfortably  heated  and  con- 
venient office  that  this  book  was  conceived.  Once 
started  the  manuscript  was  pursued  industriously 
night  and  day. 

Kenneth  Hall,  humorist  and  nondescript  dram- 
atist, happened  to  be  a  fixture  of  the  office.  From 
Battery  D  he  was  recruited  and  when  he  came  his 
nonsense  came  with  him.  Outside  of  old  ' '  Deacon ' ' 
Powers,  my  friend  Hall  caused  me  more  hearty 
laughter  during  our  fortnight  of  association  than 
I  had  ever  crammed  into  a  like  period  before  in 
my  life. 

One  night  Hall  remained  at  the  office.  He  sat 
near  the  stove  and  between  his  Ethiopian  lips  he 
held  the  familiar  cigarette.     To  him  friend  f igar- 


212  THRU  THE  FIRES  OF  FRANCE 

ette  was  the  elixir  of  life.  Defiant  in  all  my  ad- 
vice he  puffed  away  furiouslj^  and  blew  the  smoke 
in  my  face.  Now  this  was  more  than  I  could 
stand  and  with  an  emerald  glow  in  my  eyes  I 
gave  this  eighteen-year-old  lad  the  mental  trounc- 
ing of  his  life.  He  promised  to  give  up  the  habit, 
and  to  reinstate  himself  in  my  estimation  he  wrote^ 
that  night,  the  following: 

To  the  Cigarette 
You  w^ere  with  me  on  the  transport, 

When  I  crossed  the  ocean  blue, 
You  were  with  me  in  the  harbor, 

When  the  tedious  voyage  was  thru. 
On  the  long  and  dusty  march. 

With  a  heavy  laden  pack. 
You  helped  me  to  forget 

About  the  aching  of  my  back. 
In  a  stuffy  little  boxcar 

That  was  lightly  strewn  with  hay, 
When  I  couldn't  sleep,  you  helped  me  then 

To  pass  the  hours  away. 
Thru  the  dreary  months  of  training 

You  went  with  me  clear  thru ; 
And  when  I  was  ordered  to  the  Front 

I  went — and  so  did  you. 
In  the  dugout  under  shell-fire, 

In  the  kitchen  after  chow, 
In  the  gun-pit  with  the  gun-crew 

You  were  with  me  everywhere.  But  now — - 
You  must  find  another  master. 

For  tho  you've  never  failed  me  yet. 
For  reasons  that  skeni  tell  you, 
We  now  part,  friend  cigarette. 


A  POEM  213 

Needless  to  say,  the  next  day  Hall  purchased 
a  3-ineh  amber  cigarette  holder  and,  with  this 
walking  advertisement,  came  to  the  office  puffing 
louder  and  longer  than  ever.  I  reflected  that 
advice  is  cheap  and  that  Hall  had  received  his 
share  at  half-price.  We  never  mentioned  the  sub- 
ject again,  tho  he  continued  in  his  loquacious 
manner  and  we  went  on  merry  making  as  before. 

Parrish,  another  fixture  of  the  office,  who  had 
little  or  nothing  to  do,  pulled  the  hob-nails  out 
of  his  ground-grippers  and  polished  up  for  so- 
ciety. "Gene"  Martin  dreamed  of  Kansas  City 
and  home  while  Lane  longed  to  return  to  the  old 
game  of  firing — not  at  the  Front,  but  on  an  iron- 
horse  running  over  the  Canadian-Pacific. 


CHAPTER  52 
Glad  Tidings 

Adjutant  Brush  called  the  office  force  to  his 
desk  one  morning.  As  we  stood  at  attention  trying 
to  suppress  the  emotions  that  surged  thru  our 
being  the  Captain  spoke.  ' '  We  are  ordered  home, ' ' 
lie  said  and  as  the  magic  words  fell  from  his  lips 
we  beheld  a  vision.  It  seemed  that  we  were  once 
more  in  sunny  California — a  home — the  loved  one 
— outstretched  arms — old  familiar  land-marks — 
friends — peace. 

Glad  tidings  animated  the  office  that  morning 
and  our  rejoicing  ascended  unto  heaven.  0!  the 
joy  that  is  born  of  sacrifice.  That  morning  we 
lingered  over  the  cup  of  life  and  sipped  of  its 
native  nectar. 

Out  at  Nonsard  Woods  Battery  B  had  received 
the  word.  Skepticism  ran  rife  in  the  ranks  at 
first.  Surely  there  must  be  some  mistake,  the  boys 
argued.  When  Lieut.  Dows  ordered  the  Battery 
to  answer  reveille  at  5  a.  m.  the  next  morning 
and  be  prepared  to  march  it  suddenly  dawned 
upon  the  boys  that  the  word  was  true.  McHenry 
became  jubilant  to  the  degree  of  insanity.  Wasn't 
he  going  home  to  a  wife  and  baby  1  "  0  !  my  baby ! 
My  baby!"  he  shouted.  Months  of  suppressed 
emotions  broke  forth  in  a  phosphoric  rhapsody — 
**0!mybaby!" 

'  *  Curly ' '  Best,  less  demonstrative  in  nature  and 
with  an  eye  for  business,  gathered   his    souvenirs 


GLAD  TIDINGS  215 

about  himself.  Late  into  the  night  the  boys  argued 
pro  and  eon  over  their  packs.  Should  they  dis- 
card everything  but  bare  essentials  to  give  com- 
fort in  marching?  Or  should  all  clothing  be  re- 
tained, especially  the  numerous  souvenirs,  trusting 
to  the  auto  trucks  for  transportation?  It  was  a 
question. 

Around  the  stoves  the  boys  gathered  and  the 
flames  filtered  out  thru  the  pipes.  All  curtains 
were  removed  and  a  candle,  shining  out  into  the 
night,  stood  before  every  window,  a  practice  that 
had  been  in  vogue  since  the  first  night  of  the 
armistice.  Like  old  Lucifer  the  Yanks  broke  every 
rule  in  defiance  of  King  Restraint.  The  luminary 
window  offering  and  the  leaping  flames  were  but 
examples. 

Several  boys  rolled  their  packs  in  the  evening, 
retiring  in  overcoats  and  full  dress.  Corp.  Bibby 
always  rolled  his  pack  twelve  hours  early.  I  never 
saw  it  to  fail.  Crumrine  usually  finished  his  pack 
three  minutes  before  departure.  At  a  late  hour 
the  boys  settled  into  a  fitful  sleep. 

The  following  morning  at  five  the  guard  passed 
the  word  and  soon  the  camp  was  a-stir.  Each 
man  rolled  his  pack  and  arranged  his  personl  ef- 
fects. All  extra  ordnance  was  conveniently  stacked 
for  the  salvage  company.  After  breakfast  all  pots 
and  pans  were  washed,  the  field  range  dismantled 
and  provisions  boxed.  One  truck  carried  all  ord- 
nance, equipment  and  provisions.  The  aircraft 
gun  was  left  in  the  hands  of  the  French  so  now 
the  Battery  was  free  to  move. 


216  THRU  THE  FIRES  OP  FRANCE 

The  balloon  company,  thru  the  courtesy  of  their 
Captain,  furnished  several  trucks  to  help  in  the 
first  lap  of  the  homeward  journey.  When  at  last 
every  detail  was  complete  and  the  procession  was 
off,  all  eyes  were  turned  to  the  old  camp.  In  that 
closing  hour  with  the  sun  hanging  in  the  south- 
ern sky,  the  trees  in  silent  sleep,  the  Front  in 
silence  supreme  and  the  camp's  life  slowly  ebbing 
away,  the  boys  resolved  to  keep  the  memory  of 
Nonsard  Camp  forever  in  the  safe  and  sacred 
sanctum  of  their  hearts. 

Late  in  the  afternoon  the  Battery  reached 
Ecrouves,  mentioned  in  Chapter  26,  just  outside 
of  Toul,  and  the  following  day,  November  22, 
Woolaver  and  I  returned  to  our  Battery. 

Captain  Duffie  was  in  Paris,  having  gone  on  his 
regular  furlough  a  week  before  the  signing  of  the 
armistice.  Lieut.  Dows  brot  the  Battery  down 
from  the  woods  but  now  Captain  Brush,  recently 
Adjutant  at  Headquarters,  arrived  to  command 
the  Battery.  During  Duffie 's  absence  Dows  had 
straightened  out  considerably,  so  the  boys  said, 
and  had  grown  to  be  an  altogether  likeable  fel- 
low. 

At  Ecouvres  we  established  quarters  in  a  de- 
serted and  ramshackle  old  building  pending  ar- 
rival of  transportation  orders  which  would  send 
us  flying  over  the  second  lap  of  our  journey. 
Rolling  stock  was  in  great  demand.  However,  we 
anticipated  an  early  move.  In  our  new  home  we 
spread  our  blankets  on  ancient  floors.  Out  in  the 
yard  the  kitchen  was  duly  installed  and  the  cooks 
prepared  three  steaming  meals  each  day. 


GLAD  TIDINGS  217 

The  neighborhood  was  generally  squalid.  Recent 
rains  added  to  the  filth,  and  numerous  feet 
churned  the  mid  in  the  streets  then  came  home 
and  walked  over  the  blankets  spread  upon  the 
floor.  The  boys,  having  so  recently  come  from  a 
neat  and  orderly  camp,  were  keenly  aware  of  the 
condition.  At  Ecrouves  we  were  fully  initiated 
into  the  vagrant  mysteries  of  the  return  trip. 

Steel  helmets,  gas-masks  and  trench  tools  were 
salvaged  here  and  Supply  Sgt.  Louis  turned  every 
unnecessary  piece  of  ordnance  possible  over  to 
the  central  salvage  depot  at  Toul,  receiving  credit 
for  same. 

Extra  clothing  and  souvenirs  were  thrown  aside. 
Woolaver,  in  a  wild  attempt  to  make  his  pack  as 
light  as  possible  and  thinking  that  we  would  reach 
the  States  in  two  weeks  at  least,  threw  away  all 
his  extra  underwear  and  sox.  Two  months  later 
in  San  Francisco,  on  the  eve  of  discharge,  after 
having  worn  one  undersuit  continuously  the  en- 
tire time,  poor  Woolaver  replaced  his  blackish 
underclothing  with  a  fresh  suit  received  from  the 
the  quartermaster.  The  discarded  clothing  found 
its  way  into  an  ash  can. 

I  reduced  my  pack  to  two  blankets,  one  slicker, 
one  jerkin,  one  undersuit,  extra,  two  pairs  of  sox, 
shelter  half,  tent-rope  and  pins,  condiment  can, 
mess  tins,  cup,  canteen,  razor  outfit,  soap,  towel 
and  tooth-brush.  My  writing  materials  were  car- 
ried in  a  separate  leather  carrying  case. 

Add  to  this  an  overcoat,  gun  and  sidearms  and 
the  clothing  upon  the  person,  and  the  list  is  com- 
plete. 


CHAPTER  53 
Homeward  Bound 

Headquarters  and  Supply,  C  and  D  Batteries 
arrived  and  now  the  Battalion,  commanded  by 
Major  Reily,  was  complete,  with  the  exception  of 
Battery  A,  which  came  down  from  the  Argonne 
forest  later  and  joined  us  at  Brest. 

Everyone  visited  back  and  forth  exchanging 
Battery  experiences,  trading  souvenirs  and  talk- 
ing over  old  times.  Several  libertines  held  con- 
verse with  the  crowd  down  at  the  village  pump 
and  succeeded  in  passing  some  sophisticated  stuff 
for  the  real  article.  Or  were  these  brilliant 
lady-smashers  polishing  up  a  stock  of  tales  for 
home  consumption  ? 

On  the  fifth  day  our  transportation  was  ready. 
As  we  swung  down  the  village  street  four  abreast, 
in  the  early  morn,  the  townspeople  gathered  to 
give  us  a  last  farewell.  The  muddy  promenade 
and  threatening  sky  could  not  quench  our  exuber- 
ant spirits  and  we  marched  gaily  on  as  a  new 
emotion  gripped  our  hearts.  We  were  wont  to 
project  our  thots  into  the  future  and  picture  the 
home-coming,  the  remaking  of  family  ties  and 
meeting  friends.  A  secret  happiness  was  firmly 
planted  in  every  breast. 

A  half  hour  later  the  Battalion  reached  the  Toul 
station.  The  four  Batteries  were  assigned,  in 
equal  number,  to  twenty  freight  cars.  Two  bales 
of  straw  and  enough  provisions  for    five    days' 


HOMEWARD  BOUND  219 

travel,  consisting  of  canned  beef,  beans,  tomatoes 
and  jam,  were  distributed  to  each  ear. 

The  usual  delay  in  exchange  of  documents  and 
army  red-tape  almost  unnerved  us  as  we  im- 
patiently awaited  the  signal  of  departure.  Aibout 
noon  we  moved  slowly  out  of  the  railroad  yards 
of  Toul. 

There  were  no  regrets  to  leave  behind,  no  heart- 
aches and  farewells  and  handkerchiefs  and  tears. 
Back  to  the  land  of  liberty,  back  to  God^s  coun- 
try and  home  we  were  bound,  and  the  moving 
wheels  were  music  in  our  ears. 

On  Wednesday,  November  21,  daylight  broke 
over  our  slow  freight  as  we  were  moving  along 
the  banks  of  the  famous  River  Marne  via  Chalons, 
E^ernay,  Chateau  Theirry,  Meaux  and  Paris. 
Ghastly  ruins  greeted  our  gaze  at  every  turn. 
Every  town  and  village  bordering  the  banks  of  the 
Marne  had  been  reduced  to  utter  destruction  and 
devastation  by  the  ostentatious  Hun  months  be- 
fore. Thousands  of  shell  holes  dotted  the  land- 
scape, orchards  were  literally  uprooted  and  a  path- 
way of  trenches,  skirting  either  side  of  the  River 
Marne  for  miles,  were  as  open  gashes  in  the  earth. 

Numerous  graves,  some  de<;orated,  others  livid 
and  sombre,  struck  a  pathetic  note  in  the  harmony 
of  the  battlefield.  We  passed  Epernay,  twenty 
miles  south  of  the  now  famous  Rheims,  with  the 
sun  at  its  zenith.  At  nightfall  our  troop  train 
steamed  thru  Chateau  Thierry,  made  famous  by 
the  Yanks,  and  now  as  the  day  was  ended  so  also 
was  our  career  at  the  Front  ended.     Our  battle- 


220  THRU  THE  FIRES  OF  FRANCE 

field  ride  during  the  day  was  a  summing  up  of 
the  horrors  of  warfare ;  an  epitome  of  the  mighty 
struggle  just  ended. 

In  the  twilight  we  prepared  our  beds,  closed  the 
side-doors  of  the  boxcar  and  were  soon  settled. 
The  boys  chatted  and  spun  yarns  well  into  the 
night. 

Thanksgiving  morning  we  awoke  in  the  outskirts 
of  Paris.  A  stopover  near  the  round-house  enabled 
us  to  wash  our  hands  and  face  and  cleanse  the  sticky 
mess-tins.  Each  battery  cook  prepared  a  boiler 
of  steaming  coffee  along  the  railroad  tracks.  It  was 
the  first  warmth  in  two  days  and  we  sipped  our 
coffee  to  the  very  dregs. 

An  hour  later,  being  advised  that  every  man 
was  accounted  for.  Major  Reily  ordered  the  train 
to  proceed.  Saying  a  fond  farewell  to  Eiffel 
Tower,  which  we  could  see  in  the  distance,  we 
slipped  out  of  Paris  and  were  soon  gliding  along 
the  fertile  banks  of  the  Seine.  The  beautiful 
valley  with  its  bordering  hills  and  well-ordered 
homes  was  a  marked  contrast  to  the  battlefields  of 
yesterday. 

At  Mantes  on  the  Seine  our  itinerant  freight 
quit  the  beautiful  river  and  we  were  destined  to 
travel  via  Evreux — Alencon  —  Mayenne  —  Laval, 
and  on  thru  to  Brest  over  the  same  route  we  had 
traveled  inland  five  months  previous. 

In  western  France  we  celebrated  the  annual 
festival  of  Thanksgiving.  Twenty-eight  men  in 
our  car  partook  of  cold  beef,  beans,  tomatoes,  hard 
bread  and  jam.    Water  from  our  canteens  passed 


HOMEWARD    BOtTND  221 

for  grape-juice.  Ex-Cook  Steger  was  in  our  car 
and  helped  dish  out  the  food  in  equal  portions. 
It  was  necessary  to  manage  carefully  in  the 
crowded  and  bouncing  car  lest  our  mess-tins  would 
turn  turtle  and  spill  the  food  over  our  hay,  as 
did  happen  several  times  in  the  distance  we  had 
come. 

With  our  Pilgrim  Fathers  we  joined  in  Thanks- 
giving, not  for  the  food  we  were  eating,  but  for 
the  great  privilege  of  returning  home  to  our  loved 
ones  in  America. 


CHAPTER  54 
The  Mud-Hole 

On  the  afternoon  of  the  fourth  day  (November 
29)  at  4:30,  our  long  freight,  with  its  human 
cargo,  rolled  into  the  railroad  terminus  at  Brest, 
(vaptain  Duffie  was  at  the  station  to  meet  us  tho 
now  he  was  detached  from  our  Battery.  In  the 
last  few  miles  of  travel  we  had  watched  eagerly 
the  distant  ocean,  then  the  harbor  and  all  its 
activities.  We  could  see  several  huge  transports 
riding  at  anchor  and  the  boys  argued  that  we 
might  go  aboard  immediately  upon  arrival.  But 
this  was  not  to  be.  Instead  we  were  herded  out 
to  the  mud-hole. 

From  the  station  to  Camp  Pontenazin  the  dis- 
tance is  three  miles  or  more.  Now  for  the  boys 
to  walk  this  distance  with  full  packs  after  having 
had  no  exercise  for  four  days  was  a  severe  tax 
on  the  phyhical  body. 

*  *  Snapper '  *  gave  up  near  the  summit  of  the  first 
hill  and  fell  out.  In  his  weakened  condition  he 
could  not  make  the  grade.  The  roads  were  muddy 
and  a  light  mist  fell  from  threatening  clouds. 
Winter  followed  us  to  camp  where  ''he"  placed 
extra  orders  with  ''his"  mud-mixers. 

Once  arrived  we  groped  around  in  the  dark  for 
our  barracks.  Mud  was  everywhere.  Mud  was 
king.  Crossing  a  lot  I  slipped  and  buried  my 
knees  in  a  foot  of  mud.  My  feet  were  caked  to 
the  ankles.     Mud  was  on  my  hands  and  on  my 


THE  MUD-HOLE  223 

rifle  and  in  this  condition  I  stumbled  into  a  four- 
walled  building  which  crafty  contractors  dared  to 
call  a  barracks.  Hundreds  of  buildings  had  been 
constructed  at  Camp  Pontenazin  of  a  like  nature 
and  you  will  see  presently  the  diabolical  effect 
wrought  by  the  hand  of  graft. 

In  the  city  of  incessant  winter  rain  contractors 
dared  to  erect  these  structures  without  foundation 
or  flooring.  Much  lumber  was  saved  the  build- 
ers— and  dollars,  too.  The  usual  excavation  was 
necessary  to  make  the  buildings  level.  One  end 
of  our  barracks  was  too  feet  below  the  surface 
of  the  ground  and  this  fact  accounted  for  the 
large  pool  of  water  we  found  in  the  center  of  the 
room. 

During  our  eight  days'  residence  in  this  hell- 
hole dozens  of  boys  from  the  Battalion  reported 
to  the  hospital  in  sickness  and,  to  my  knowledge, 
at  least  two  died. 

The  first  night  we  entered  our  ''home"  every- 
one dropped  his  pack  and  looked  about  in  bewil- 
derment. No  straw,  no  bunk  and  not  even  dry 
ground  to  sleep  upon.  Scouting  parties  were  al- 
ready searching  the  neighborhood  for  lumber. 
They  returned  without  success.  Someone  discov- 
ered a  stack  of  corrugated  sheet-iron.  Hurrah! 
Before  the  evening  had  run  its  course  every  pri- 
vate had  a,  sheet-iron  bed.  Even  tho  our  corru- 
gated iron  mattresses  were  a  degree  harder  than 
wood,  still  it  prevented  the  dampness  creeping 
thru. 

Battery  A,  had  arrived  earlier  in  the  day  and 


224  THRU  THE  FIRES  OF  FRANCE 

now  the  usual  greetings  were  in  order.  Batteries 
A  and  B  always  were  closely  tied,  having  trained 
together  at  Fort  Rosecrans.  Captain  Richie,  their 
old  commander,,  a  West  Pointer  and  a  prince,  was 
to  this  day  an  object  of  their  affections.  Both 
A  and  B  were  officially  credited  with  two  planes 
and  this  happy  coincidence  led  to  greater  friend- 
ship. We  talked  well  into  the  night  and  later 
when  all  was  quiet  I  heard  the  rain  patter  upon 
the  roof  and  felt  the  lumps  in  my  iron  mattress. 
Next  morning  we  ironed  out  the  wrinkles  as  best 
we  could  and  then  lined  up  for  ' '  chow. ' ' 

Now,  breakfast  or  any  other  meal  was  positively 
taken  in  jeopardy.  To  travel  from  our  barracks 
to  the  kitchen  required  acrobatic  skill.  The  treach- 
erous mud-holes  and  slippery  knolls  caused  us  to 
step  about  like  rope-dancers.  Down  near  the 
kitchen  the  mud-mixers  worked  overtime.  Twen- 
ty-five thousand  men  daily  churned  the  sodden 
earth  unmercifully.  Four  simple  board  runways, 
two  hundred  feet  long,  would  have  been  excellent 
economy. 

In  this  concentration  camp  water  was  taboo 
except  for  drinking  purposes.  For  this  reason  the 
boys  would  tackle  a  rain  puddle  just  outside  the 
barracks,  and  diligently  set  about  their  toilet.  Of 
course  much  care  was  not  given  to  manicures  and 
shoe-shines  during  this  delightful  sojourn. 

Baths  were  in  order  a  half  mile  over  at  the 
original  Napoleon  barracks.  But  to  these  baths 
the  boys  refused  to  go,  especially  since  every  man 
was  the  proud  possessor  of  one  nice  clean  under- 


THE  MUD-HOLE  225 

suit  which  was  being  saved  for  the  day  of  tri- 
umphant entry  into  the  promised  land  of  good  old 
U.  S.  A.  To  conduct  a  laundry  in  mud  and  rain 
was  out  of  the  question  and  the  boys  argued  that 
to  bathe  and  replace  soiled  clothing  was  ridiculous 
so  the  baths  went  by  the  board. 

French  highbinders  just  outside  the  camp  ped- 
dled food  at  thrice  its  value.  The  food  from  our 
kitchen  was  fit  for  the  poverty  stricken  only  and 
this  fact  was  responsible  for  the  large  sum  of 
money  that  found  its  way  into  the  Frenchman's 
cofEers. 

For  eight  days  we  existed  in  this  mud-hole  and 
each  day  was  rumored  to  be  the  last.  ' '  Tomorrow 
we  move."  But  tomorrow  was  several  decades  in 
arriving.  Each  night  the  ribs  of  our  corrugated 
mattress  grew  wider  and  deeper.  Each  night  our 
curses  grew  louder. 


CHAPTER  55 
On  the  High  Sea 

Finally  the  day  came.  Our  transport,  the 
Leviathan,  was  riding  at  anchor  in  the  harbor. 
At  noon  all  packs  were  rolled.  As  we  marched 
out  of  the  mud-hole  the  sun  broke  thru  the 
clouds,  the  first  sunlight  in  eight  days.  To  sail 
from  France  with  the  sun  shining  seemed  to  be 
in  the  natural  order  of  things. 

In  the  streets  of  Brest  the  children  gathered. 
Hundreds  of  wooden  shoes  echoed  and  re-echoed 
upon  the  cobblestones.  They  sang,  ''Hail,  hail, 
the  gang's  all  here,"  et  cetera.  Five  months  pre- 
vious we  had  heard  the  same  melody.  It  was 
romantic  then  but  commonplace  now. 

Down  the  street  several  M.  P.'s  were  stationed 
to  guide  the  traffic.  As  we  passed  Ginn  shouted, 
* '  Who  won  the  war  ? ' '  And  immediately  a  chorus 
of  voices  rang  forth,  "The  M.  P."  It  was  difficult 
to  discern  whether  our  friend  the  M.  P.  turned 
white  thru  rage  or  fright.. 

The  inner  harbor  of  Brest  was  not  deep  enough 
to  receive  the  U.  S.  S.  Leviathan,  largest  ship  in 
the  world,  measuring  40  feet  from  the  water  line 
to  the  keel.  To  reach  the  transport  we  shipped 
aboard  a  lighter.  Twenty-five  hundred  men  passed 
the  gate  that  afternoon  and  finally,  after  the  usual 
delay,  the  Captain  withdrew  from  the  dock. 

It  was  late  when  the  lighter  got  under  way. 
Darkness  gathered.    The  sea  was  cold  and  choppy, 


ON  HIGH  SEA  227 

making  the  trip  a  perilous  one  for  our  small  well- 
loaded  boat.  Ten  minutes  later  we  were  riding 
alongside  the  hugh  transport.  Thru  the  port- 
hole we  could  see  an  iron-wall  and  it  seemed  to 
rise  out  of  the  sea  and  ascend  into  heaven.  We 
knew  it  to  be  the  Leviathan  but  we  could  see  only 
the  iron-wall. 

Suddenly  the  lighter  registered  a  violent  im- 
pact. We  are  thrown  to  our  feet.  Sharp  inves- 
tigated the  trouble  thru  the  nearest  port-hole. 
With  a  look  of  agony,  impossible  to  impersonate, 
he  cried  out,  ''She's  cracked  in  two — what  shall 
we  do?" 

With  visions  of  a  sinking  ship  and  a  frantic 
mob  I  immediately  poked  my  head  out  the  port- 
hole to  verify  Sharp's  remark.  A  glance  was 
sufficient  to  understand  the  alarm,  and  then  to 
prevent  the  riot  which  threatened  I  shouted, 
''Hold  your  horses;  she's  0.  K.  1"  The  boat  was 
a  fantail  lighter  and  from  a  port-hole  it  had  the 
appearance  of  being  bent,  or  cracked  as  Sharp 
thot,  especially  when  the  searchlights  played  aft. 
The  Captain  had  made  a  bad  landing  but  soon 
a  dozen  guy-ropes  held  the  infant  boat  to  the 
bosom  of  the  giant  father. 

As  we  passed  through  the  corridors  of  the  trans- 
port our  brother,  the  gob,  eyed  us  curiously.  Ours 
was  the  first  returning  eombat  unit  they  had  seen, 
and  being  fresh  from  the  field  with  pack  and  gun, 
and  souvenirs  profusely  in  evidence,  the  long  line 
of  eager  spectators  pointed  many  questions.  "Is 
that  the  Kaiser's  lid?"  they  asked  Sgt.  Hoffman, 


228  THRU  THE  FIRES  OF  FRANCE 

who  carried  a  German  dress  helmet.  ** Curly" 
Best,  the  souvenir  hound,  paraded  in  all  his  glory. 
There  was  a  bit  of  psychology  in  his  display,  too, 
for  later  he  sold  a  few  souvenirs  at  a  handsome 
profit. 

The  ship's  guide  escorted  us  to  compartment 
F.  R.  S.-l,  F  deck  amidship.  After  a  good  meal 
we  rolled  into  real  spring  bunks  and  for  the  first 
time  in  two  weeks  we  closed  our  eyes  in  com- 
fort. 

The  next  day,  Sunday,  December  8th,  at  2  in 
the  afternoon,  the  Leviathan  got  under  way  and 
ten  minutes  later  passed  Point  de  St.  Mathieu. 
Nine  thousand  men  filled  the  decks  to  overflow- 
ing, all  anxious  to  bid  adieu  to  the  land  of 
Lafayette,  yet  glad  to  close  a  chapter  in  life  which, 
to  some,  had  proved  so  bitter. 

As  the  prow  of  the  stately  ship  cut  a  west- 
wardly  path  in  the  choppy  Bay  of  Biscay  we 
watched  the  fading  shore  until  finally  a  glint  at 
the  unbroken  sky-line  was  silent  proof  that  we 
were  riding  the  high  seas.  With  the  submarine 
menace  gone  we  felt  a  great  sense  of  security  and 
comfort. 

All  thru  the  afternoon  I  watched  the  waves 
dash  against  the  iron  monster,  and  I  was  aware 
of  a  throbbing  heart  and  a  lump  in  my  throat. 
Were  we  sailing  home?  0!  how  sweet  the  mem- 
ory; how  eager  the  mind.  Seventeen  days  till 
Christmas;  would  the  Battery  be  discharged  and 
home  by  then  1  It  was  much  to  ask  for.  We  were 
fortunate  in  being  the  first  unit  ordered  home. 


ON  HIGH  SEA  229 

yes,  but  now  that  we  were  sailing,  would  it  be 
possible  to  arrive  home  Christinas?  And  see  the 
folks?  And  partake  of  a  real  dinner?  And  do 
real  honest-to-goodness  things  ? 


CHAPTER  56 
The  Horror  of  War 

The  passenger  list  included  over  5,000  wounded 
and  disabled  warriors.  Among  these  boys  our 
small  unit  of  500  men  moved  each  day  and  the 
horror  of  warfare,  in  these  men,  was  emphasized 
to  its  highest  degree. 

The  dead — they  do  not  suffer;  their  reward  is 
heaven.  But  look  upon  these  mutilated  men, 
these  legless,  armless,  eyeless  men.  Look  over  the 
list  and  be  not  deceived.  Yet  in  greater  plight 
than  these  are  the  shell-shocked,  the  hopeless  de- 
mented lads  who  are  homeward  bound,  back  to 
loved  ones  whom  they  will  recognize  not. 

The  ship  was  literally  saturated  with  anaes- 
thetics. Oil  decks  A  and  B  our  helpless  bed-ridden 
brothers  passed  the  weary  hours,  some  writhing 
unto  death,  even,  in  an  unexpected  relapse. 

Several  hundred  bodies  of  sailors  who  had  suc- 
cumbed to  the  *'flu"  were  piled  high  on  a  lower 
deck. 

The  poison  gas  played  its  part.  Hundreds  of 
men  were  confined  to  the  open  deck  that  delicate 
lung-tissues  might  receive  every  ounce  of  oxygen 
possible. 

I  listened  for  hours  to  the  stories  of  real 
heroes,  men  who  had  actually  come  face  to  face 
with  the  Hun  and  had  felt  the  cold  steel  in  the 
encounter.  Such  as  these  were  wearing  the  Dis- 
tinguished Service  Medal. 


THE   HOEROR  OF   WAR  231 

One  lad,  a  typical  American,  had  had  a  hard 
tussle  with  life  at  the  Front.  A  man  of  natural 
prowess  and  agility  this  soldier  was  selected  to 
crawl  up  to  an  advanced  position  in  no  man 's  land 
under  cover  of  darkness.  He  went.  A  combina- 
tion gas  shell  exploded  nearby  and  a  fragment 
of  shell  case  ripped  away  the  heel  of  his  foot. 
In  the  momentary  pain  and  agony  he  inhaled 
the  fumes  of  phosgene  gas.  Another  instant  and 
the  mask  was  adjusted  but  the  poison  gas  had 
played  its  part.  Now  our  hero  can  neither  walk 
nor  breathe  with  comfort  and  longevity  will  be  his 
phantom  dream. 

Another  doughboy,  with  a  D.  S.  Medal,  went 
over  the  top  somewhere  in  Belleau  Woods.  He  re- 
turned with  an  ugly  facial  wound,  the  cheek-bone 
blown  away  and  the  left  eye  hanging  from  its 
socket.  The  eye  was  replaced  and  the  wound 
healed  but  the  disfigurement  was  destined  to  cause 
great  lamentation  among  his  friends  and  relatives. 

And  so  the  story  goes.  I  need  not  dwell  further 
upon  the  atrocious  results  of  modern  warfare;  our 
war  literature  is  teeming  with  ghastly  and  abhor- 
rent narratives. 


CHAPTER  57 
Food  Jugglers 

Eight  long  days  our  titanic  Leviathan  sailed  the 
deep  blue  sea.  The  second  day  out  found  many 
boys  fiat  upon  their  backs  in  sea-sickness  unable 
to  move  or  speak.  One  long  weary  day  did  I  toss 
in  agony,  counting  every  lunge  of  the  boat.  To- 
wards evening  I  decided  to  ''let  'er  go."  I  did, 
and  later  out  on  deck  in  the  fresh  air  I  recovered 
and  was  made  immune  from  sea-sickness  for  the 
rest  of  the  voyage.  With  returning  health  came 
a  vigorous  appetite,  and  two  meals  per  day  were 
not  sufficient  to  appease  the  appetite. 

The  natural  result  was  that  the  men.  lined  up 
and  passed  the  kitchen  unto  the  fourth  and  fifth 
time.  System  having  long  since  been  interred, 
the  ingenious  ones  ran  the  blockade  of  look-outs, 
struggled  into  line  near  the  entrance  and,  with 
clean  mess-tins,  passed  the  cooks  unnoticed.  Now 
this  condition  caused  a  shortage  of  food  and  the 
men  bringing  up  the  rear  were  decidedly  out  of 
luck.  The  head-cook  would  open  cold  reserve 
rations  and  serve  the  remainder  of  the  hungry  mob 
as  best  he  could.  Rear  was  an  adept  at  the  game 
of  food  jugglery  and  each  meal  would  be  finishing 
his  fourth  or  fifth  helping  while  our  Battery  was 
just  beginning. 

One  evening  toward  the  end  of  the  voyage,  while 
the  jugglers  played  heavy  stakes,  our  mess  line 
moved  up  to  the  kitchen  in  no  less  than  two  hours 


FOOD  JUGGLEES  233 

and  a  half.  We  were  hungry  and  half-starved 
and  as  we  passed  the  balcony  of  the  mess  hall  we 
could  see,  standing  around  the  mess  tables,  dozens 
of  men  belonging  to  our  Battery  who  had  cheated 
their  way  in.  On  this  occasion  I  allowed  myself 
to  express  the  greatest  exasperation  I  have  ever 
known. 

The  canteen  aboard  was  sold  out  and  men  who 
possessed  food  of  any  description  were  in  clover. 
Oranges  sold  for  a  dollar  each. 

The  return  trip  was  decidedly  an  unromantic 
affair.  Practically  our  entire  time  was  spent  in 
the  mess  line.  The  saving  grace  was  our  home 
coming.  We  were  prepared  for  any  hardship 
whatsoever.  We  were  homeward  bound  and  that 
was  sufficient  reason  for  rejoicing. 

When  we  were  three  days  at  sea  our  six  months ' 
service  terminated  and  Major  Reily  authorized  one 
gold  chevron  to  be  plaeed  on  the  left  sleeve,  three 
inches  above  the  wrist.  A  regular  sewing-bee  was 
held  down  in  our  compartment.  Kottinger  went 
into  business  and  charged  two-bits  per  chevron. 
Later  Mathews  joined  the  firm  and  the  two  boys 
did  a  land  office  business. 


CHAPTER  58 
Statue  op  Liberty 

The  Leviathan  steamed  into  territorial  waters 
on  the  loth,  but  on  account  of  a  heavy  fog  we 
were  obliged  to  anchor  outside  Sandy  Hook  until 
the  following  morning. 

When  the  16th  finally  dawned  we  were  up  and 
packed,  ready  to  leave  the  ship  at  a  moment's 
notice;  we  were  ready  to  step  foot  upon  native 
soil,  and  by  the  light  of  Jupiter  we  pledged  our- 
selves never  to  let  the  Grand  Old  Lady  do  another 
about  face. 

Eagerly  and  patiently  we  watched  the  time. 
** She's  moving,"  came  a  chorus  of  bass  voices  as 
the  old  boat  struggled  to  clear  a  sand-bar.  The 
fog  was  lifting  and  the  Captain  was  making  ready 
for  a  triumphant  entry.  Everyone  was  ordered 
below.  At  each  port-hole  were  dozens  of  bobbing 
heads,  all  straining  to  catch  a  glimpse  of  land. 
Someone  shouted,  "There's  the  Old  Lady!"  and  we 
all  struggled  for  a  glimpse.  Sure  enough,  it  was 
the  Statue  of  Liberty. 

Our  field  of  vision  was  limited  but  our  mind 
encompassed  the  entire  Bay — and  beyond.  We 
had  gained  a  glimpse,  this  was  sufficient  for  the 
moment.  The  knowledge  of  arriving  safely  home 
was  paramount.    We  could  sight-see  another  day. 

Passing  thru  The  Narrows'  forty  foot  channel 
the  Leviathan's  keel  cleared  the  bottom  by  two 
feet.  In  the  Upper  Bay  we  were  met  and  serenaded 
by  a  harbor  patrol  carrying  a  full  band  and  sev- 
eral Red  Cross  girls.    Thru  our  port-hole  we  could 


STATUTE   OF  LIBERTY  235 

hear  the  music.  And  the  girls! — why,  they  were 
real  American  girls  such  as  we  had  not  seen  in 
six  months ! 

Up  the  Hudson  we  steamed  and  later  slipped 
into  a  dock  at  Hoboken.  Another  band  on  the 
wharf,  playing  popular  airs,  joined  in  the  racket 
of  sirens,  whistles,  cheering,  howling  and  general 
serenading. 

In  the  afternoon  paper  we  read :  ' '  The  most  im- 
posing spectacle  New  York  has  witnessed  since 
American  troops  began  to  arrive  here  from  over- 
seas attended  the  arrival  today  of  the  mighty 
transport  Leviathan,  formerly  the  Vaterland,  with 
9,000  officers  and  men. 

''Steaming  majestically  toward  her  dock  in 
Hoboken,  the  great  liner  was  greeted  by  thousands 
of  spectators  who  had  gathered  at  Battery  Park, 
along  the  Jersey  shores  and  in  the  windows  and 
on  roofs  of  downtown  buildings. 

"During  the  ship's  course  from  quarantine  to 
her  pier  thousands  of  whistles  and  sirens  joined 
in  the  greeting  and  with  the  ringing  of  bells  New 
York  was  reminded  of  'Armistice  Day.'  " 

The  monster  ship  was  securely  anchored  and 
then  in  the  hour  of  solemn  resolution  and  heart- 
felt gratitude  we  filed  out  of  the  trans-Atlantic 
liner  one  by  one,  down  the  gang-plank  and  onto 
the  solid  foundations  of  a  mighty  Republic. 

Red  Cross  girls  served  coffee  and  buns,  telegrams 
were  dispatched,  photographs  taken,  souvenirs  in- 
spected, and  a  bit  later  we  were  tucked  away  in 
coaches  and  on  our  way  to  Camp  Merrit.  It  w^as 
all  over.    It  seemed  a  dream. 


CHAPTER  59 
Camps  Mebritt  and  Dix 

Arrived  in  camp  our  first  act  of  violence  was 
committed  down  at  the  canteen.  Each  man 
"killed"  a  whole  American  pie  and  a  brick  of  ice- 
cream. The  French  refused  to  make  these  eatable 
''eats,"  so  now,  after  six  months^  absence,  it  re- 
mained for  us  to  become  thoroly  acquainted  once 
more  with  pie  a-la-mode. 

Our  next  excitement  was  the  cootie  bath,  clothes 
and  all.  Under  500  pounds  of  steam  our  0.  D. 
suit  was  prest  into  a  thousand  wrinkles  and 
the  next  day  when  I  invaded  New  York  City  on 
pass  my  uniform  looked  like  a  baked  apple  and 
my  hob-nailed  shoes,  ringing  upon  the  pavement, 
advertised  the  fact.  But  for  all  that  I  celebrated 
by  sitting  in  the  front  row  at  the  Hippodrome, 
largest  show-house  on  earth.  We  overseas  tramps 
did  the  town  up  generally  and  returned  to  camp 
next  morning  just  in  time  to  line  up  and  march 
to  the  next  out-going  train. 

All  the  way  to  Camp  Dix,  near  Wrightstown, 
New  Jersey,  our  all-night  crowd,  fatigued  and 
weary,  closed  their  eyes  to  the  passing  world. 

At  Dix  the  boys  were  destined  to  spend  more 
gloomy  days  than  they  had  ever  experienced  before 
with  the  exception  of  the  mud-hole. 

At  Dix  the  holiday  season  came  and  went. 
Every  day  was  to  be  the  last.  "Tomorrow  we 
move,"  was  the  common  expression.    A  few  days 


CAMPS  MEREITT  AND  DIX  237 

before  Christmas  the  boys  threatened  to  "go  over 
the  hill."  Why  should  Uncle  Sam  elect  to  keep 
us  when  were  of  no  earthly  use?  We  stood  no 
formations,  mounted  no  guards.  Christmas  day 
arrived,  then  passed  into  eternity  and  with  its 
passing  the  nefarious  red-tape  machine  turned  its 
wheel  for  the  millionth  time.  Ten  days  later,  on 
Janary  5th,  we  moved! 

In  the  meanwhile  we  celebrated  the  holidays  as 
best  we  could.  Blanky  and  Jester  made  trips  to 
New  York  City  in  their  tailor-mac^s.  ''Vic" 
Ledgerton  drove  the  Red  Cross  jitney  and  jollied 
with  the  girls.  Others  went  to  the  Wednesday  and 
Saturday  evening  dances  at  Wrightstewn.  ''Herb" 
Fears  borrowed  my  three  dollar  russet  shoes  and 
made  the  trip  to  Philadephia  with  GiJbson  as  es- 
cort. All  others  sliort  of  "kail"  'Kaunted  the 
YMCA  free  shows.  i 

Have  you  ever  heard  an  army  hoax?  Here 
is  one :  Upon  learning  that  all  company  funds  in 
the  treasury  w^ould  automatically  revert  to  the 
Quartemaster  after  disolution  of  the  Battery  and 
that  in  all  likelihood  the  Battery  would  be  dis- 
solved within  the  week.  Captain  Brush  proceeded 
to  spend  our  fifteen  hundred  dollar  mess  fund. 
During  the  Christmas  holidays  the  kitchen  was 
overstocked  with  turkey,  chicken,  fruit,  nuts,  vege- 
tables, cakes,  pies  and  cigars  to  the  full  extent 
of  fifteen  hundred  dollars.  Naturally  several  dis- 
tinguished privates,  a  sergeant  or  two  and  the 
camp  dogs  gorged  to  capacity.  They  believed  in 
the  gospel  of  "aches  and  pains,"  arch-enemy  of 
Horace  Fletcher  and  Dr.  Tanner. 


238  THRU  THE  FIRES  OF  FRANCE 

Within  the  week  our  funds  were  gone  and  soon 
the  food  disappeared.  Then  to  cap  the  climax  we 
lived  on  army  beans  and  rice,  or  the  regular  al- 
lowance of  forty  cents  per  man  per  day,  for  the 
next  twenty-four  days.  0 !  how  the  memory  of 
turkey,  cranberries  and  cake  filled  the  empty  cor- 
ners of  our  being. 

The  weather  was  bitter,  especially  at  night. 
Around  the  big  heater  the  boys  gathered  every 
day  to  discuss  the  ways  of  the  army.  For  in- 
stance, they  could  not  quite  forgive  Major  Reilly 
in  neglecting  to  place  a  requisition  for  ticks  arid 
straw  the  first  night  in  camp.  Several  men  were 
in  the  hospital  already  and  all  because  of  this 
gross  negligence,  they  argued. 

Edgar  H.  Voigt  died  at  Camp  Merritt.  ''Smiles" 
we  called  him  and  a  fine  lad,  too.  His  body  lies  in 
an  earthly  sepulchre,  but  Edgar  himself  knows  no 
limitation,  of  this  I  am  certain.  It  was  reported 
that  Tom  Sewell,  Chester  Donley  and  Roy  Bed- 
ford also  passed  away  at  Camp  Merritt,  but  I 
have  never  been  able  to  verify  the  fact. 

And  now  the  Battery  began  to  disolve.  Nathan, 
Lyon,  Kirk,  Needham,  Parker,  Yourstone,  Crum- 
rine,  Jorgensen  and  Steger  all  received  discharges 
at  Dix. 

Old  ''Pa-a-arker**  made  the  rounds  first  and  bid 
all  goodbye.  The  others  followed  suit  and  we  were 
tempted  to  shed  a  tear  or  two.  These  boys  whom 
we  had  known  so  intimately  for  a  year  and  a  half 
were  now  gone  from  our  lives. 

Our  equipment  was  all  turned  into  the  Quarter- 


CAMPS  MERRITT  AND  DIX  239 

master,  except  blankets  and  mess  tins.  The  office 
force  worked  overtime  and  all  records  were  okayed 
finally. 

At  last,  after  many  days  of  bitter  and  lonesome 
existence,  the  word  was  passed  around  and  on 
January  5th  we  marched  thru  Camp  Dix  in  mob 
formation.  Each  man  carried  his  little  bundle  in 
his  own  way.  There  was  no  regulation — we  were 
no  longer  a  Battery,  but  were  now  designated  as 
Second  Provisional  Company. 

It  seemed  that  army  officials  had  decided  at 
last  to  ship  us  to  the  Presidio,  San  Francisco,  to 
be  mustered  out.  At  Dix  we  had  received  our  final 
physical  examination  in  view  of  discharge,  but  this 
proved  a  slip,  and  in  the  Red  Tape  machine  at  the 
Presidio  we  were  subjected  to  another  examination 
of  like  nature. 


CHAPTER  60 
CaijIfornia  and  Home 

At  the  Dix  station  we  boarded  Pullmans,  that 
is,  they  were  called  Pullmans.  At  Pittsburg  the 
next  morning  Colonel  Hayden  refused  to  move  his 
troops  another  inch  and  demanded  that  our  foul- 
smelling,  broken-down,  thirty-five  year  old  cars  be 
replaced  by  standards.  The  government  was  pay- 
ing the  Pullman  Company  for  first-class  stock  and 
Col.  Hayden  demanded  a  square  deal. 

In  France  we  read  in  the  columns  of  the  New 
York  Herald,  European  Edition,  official  accounts 
wherein  Secretary  of  War  Baker  promised  all  re- 
turning soldiers  the  best  that  Uncle  Sam  could 
offer.  But  it  seemed  that  the  Pullman  Company's 
patriotism  vanished  in  its  greed  for  dollars. 

In  France  there  was  good  reason  for  traveling 
in  box-cars;  rolling  stock  was  limited.  Not  so  in 
the  States. 

After  a  lapse  of  nine  hours  the  Pullman  Com- 
pany finally  furnished  the  cars  which  Uncle  Sam 
had  contracted  for  and  once  more  we  were  started 
on  our  homeward  journey. 

Snow  was  on  the  ground  but  in  our  Standards 
we  were  replete  in  style  and  comfort — thanks  to 
Col.  Hayden.  ' '  Scribby, ' " '  Big  Boy, "  and  I  were 
a  trinity  of  friends  in  the  compartment  which  we 
happened  to  land  in  the  mad  scramble  for  berths. 

At  Chicago  the  following  day  we  were  booked 
as  second  section  of  number  Nine,  Santa  Fe,  leav- 


CALIFORNIA  AND  HOME  241 

ing  at  9:50  a.  m.  for  San  Francisco.  For  the 
next  four  days  we  traveled  thru  Missouri,  Kan- 
sas, Colorado,  New  Mexico,  Ariozna  and  California. 
Snow  covered  the  ground  all  the  way  to  Flagstaff. 
On  January  10th  we  crossed  the  Colorado  River 
at  Needles  and  now  we  were  once  more  m  Cali- 
fornia, the  land  of  sunshine. 

In  the  morning  when  old  Sol  looked  down  upon 
our  moving  troop  train  thru  a  clear-cut  atmosphere 
and  the  sage  brush  wafted  its  nectarine  on  every 
breeze  I  stood  in  the  door  of  our  empty  baggage 
car.  While  I  remained  silent  gazing  out  over  the 
low  hills,  watching  the  brilliant  sun  and  sage 
brush  dancing  in  the  breeze  of  the  on-rushing 
train,  it  was  borne  home  to  me  as  never  before  that 
California  was  home. 

Over  the  Tehachapi  and  up  the  San  Joaquin 
valley  we  traveled  and  at  every  station  we  were 
met  by  cheering  throngs  and  Red  Cross  girls. 
Faulk  met  his  brother  in  Barstow ;  Ingram  saw  his 
girl  in  Fresno ;  Merwin  met  some  friends  in  Stock- 
ton. ' '  Home  Sweet  Home ' '  rang  within  our  hearts 
all  day  long  and  the  next  morning  we  awoke  to 
the  music  of  the  Bay  waters.  It  was  Saturday 
and  as  the  Ferry  left  its  mooring  the  civilians, 
crossing  to  their  work,  grouped  about  us  and  we 
answered  their  numerous  questions  as  best  we 
could.  At  the  Ferry  in  San  Francisco  a  large 
delegation  of  Home  Boosters  showered  us  with 
gifts.  A  crowd  quickly  gathered  to  offer  us  a 
royaf  welcome  and  every  soldier  displayed  an  ir- 
resistible smile.  The  sacrifice  had  been  made ;  now 
came  the  reward,  the  glory  and  the  supreme  satis- 


242  THRU  THE  FIEES  OF  FRANCE 

faction  of  knowing  that  the  country's  call  for  men 
found  us  soldiers,  not  slackers.  We  played  the 
game,  and  we  played  it  to  a  finish. 

The  last  days  of  army  life  at  the  Presidio  rolled 
by  one  by  one  until  finally  on  January  20th  at  ten 
in  the  morning  the  boys  lined  up  for  the  last  time 
to  receive  the  coveted  paper — the  DISCBLA.RGE. 

Once  more  we  gathered  in  the  barracks,  but  this 
time  as  civilians.  Sgt.  Daniels  was  just  plain  Mr. 
Daniels  and  we  "bucks"  had  been  suddenly  ele- 
vated to  the  same  position. 

Thru  all  our  joking  ran  a  strain  of  regret.  Un- 
der the  sacred  folds  of  Old  Glory  we  had  marched 
to  war  and  during  our  intimate  association  we  had 
grown  into  a  big  family.  Now  the  family  was  dis- 
integrating and  soon  we  would  be  scattered  to  the 
four  winds. 

Brighter  thots  of  home  coming  soothed  our 
otherwise  high-pitched  emotions  and  we  gathered 
our  few  personal  effects  together,  buttoned  our 
coats,  and  left  the  Camp. 

That  evening  the  OwPs  passenger  list  included 
some  of  the  happiest  men  on  earth  and  the  next 
day  at  Los  Angeles  we  were  receivd  into  loving 
arms  and  showered  with  the  tenderest  blessings 
that  ever  a  mother,  wife  or  sweetheart  bestowed. 
There  are  moments  in  one's  life  that  can  never  be 
erased.     The  sacred  memory  of  our  home  coming 

will  live  thru  life  and  death — ^yes,  unto  eternity. 

•     •     •     • 

Battery  B  is  now  a  memory.  Thru  all  the  days 
of  my  life  I  shall  never  forget  ''The  Boys.''  We 
were  pals  in  war  and  now  we  are  pals  in  PEACE. 


THIS  BOOK  IS  DUE  ON  THE  LAST  DATE 
STAMPED  BELOW 


AN  INITIAL  FINE  OF  25  CENTS 

WILL  BE  ASSESSED  FOR  FAILURE  TO  RETURN 
THIS  BOOK  ON  THE  DATE  DUE.  THE  PENALTY 
WILL  INCREASE  TO  50  CENTS  ON  THE  FOURTH 
DAY  AND  TO  $I.OO  ON  THE  SEVENTH  DAY 
OVERDUE. 


JAN   ^1035 


SENT  ON  ILL 


MAR  0  h  1331 


U.  C.  BERKELEY 


I O    I oo^o 


66867 


UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  UBRARY 


